Closing The Jaws
by Andaer
Summary: The Sequel to 'His Claim to Fame'. Calvus has gone up in the world, whereas Marsus is still in prison. And as you know when you read some of these summaries that when a character is in prison, something VERY important happens to them. MAIN QUEST SPOILERS!
1. Chapter 1

Authors note: This is the sequel to my first Oblivion fan fiction 'His Claim to Fame'. Now I'm not saying you _must_ read 'His Claim to Fame, but it would be really helpful if you did. That way you will know who all the characters are and why they are in the situations they are in. And to those readers who _do_ know who these character are…enjoy! Time to open the red curtains!

****

Chapter One- The calm before…

The tunnel was a lot bigger since Marsus had loosened that brick five years ago. Though working in the near darkness hadn't exactly been beneficial. He could crawl into the tunnel now, and it was almost ten metres in length. Five years of observing the Guards routines had taught Marsus when to start tunnelling and when to stop. But as he got further and further from his cell, he had less time to dig before he had to retreat back to it, and position the bricks so the wall looked whole when the guards checked on him. Marsus was presently sitting in his cell, back against the wall, looking towards the cell door with a small smile on his face. The sitting around hadn't done his muscles much good, but he kept them up to standard by digging and exercising in his cell. His hearing had become very good, he could hear the marching of Legion boots on stone long before they got to his cell.

The prison guard stopped outside the door, and unlocked it. Another stood by, his spear at the ready, in case Marsus tried anything. He never had done, nor never would. That type of escape was for fools. The guard brought the bowl in, placed it on the rickety wooden table, and retreated quickly. He locked the cell door, and walked briskly down the corridor, followed by his partner. When they thought they were out of earshot they started talking, but Marsus could still hear every word.

"Gives me the creeps that one. Has never tried anything, just sits there and smiles all the time…"

"I reckon he's nuts."

"Did you hear what he did? Attacked the Divine Crusader! Sent assassins and bandits and Daedra after him, even a bloody dragon!"

Marsus groaned. The story of what he had done, and what his brother had done for that matter, had been exaggerated to legendary status. It had only been five years ago.

"He deserves more than fifteen years. Forty would suit him!"

"Yeah but you know the way things work these days. Everybody is just too damn soft!"

Marsus grew bored of the conversation, and it was fading in volume anyway. He stood up and looked at the grizzled Nord prisoner in the cell opposite him. Through several painful and repetitive conversations, he had learnt his name to be Gulding 'the Ruthless', though Marsus suspected that the title had been made up.

Gulding was asleep, and Marsus took advantage of this. He dismantled the bricks covering his tunnel one by one, and put a spoon in between his teeth, one he had kept hidden from the guards. He crawled through the tunnel. Navigation had been hard, as wooden supporting pillars encased by the bricks barred his way. He had started to dig across, but then realised that he had nowhere to store the large bricks that blocked his path. He then dug down, through the foundations of the building, and down into earth, which was bloody hard work. He had to spread the excavated earth evenly around his cell, and stomp it down, then cover it with the dead straw that littered the cell. The prison was so dark and dirty the Guards didn't notice the rise in floor level. All he needed to do now was dig outwards and upwards, and he would be free. Just another month at the most.

He climbed into his tunnel, and started to dig.

****

The Kvatch Fighters Guild was quiet in the dusk. Only a few people walked through the streets, bathed in the glow of the setting sun. On the third floor of the building, a man stood looking out of the oval shaped window. He was wearing a white shirt and green cloth trousers, clothes normally worn under his armour. The man's armour was currently on an armour stand. It was of Dwemer origin, and was tougher than steel forged by men. The blood red sunlight glinted off of it, making it look like a malevolent spectre in the corner of the room.

The man sighed, and tied his brown hair up in a pony tail. Despite how many times he had worn the Dwemer armour, it didn't feel like _his_ armour. His real armour, the armour that he felt at home in, was in a basement somewhere in the West Weald, guarded by men who had once been under his command. By the Divines he missed it.

"Something wrong?" a woman's voice asked from behind him.

"Just thinking about what happened five years ago…I kind of miss it…"

"You still have me don't you?"

"It is just a minor whim of mine…don't worry about it…"

"I see…you fight your way up through the ranks from an Apprentice to the head of the Kvatch Fighters Guild, earn lots of gold and get married to the girl of your dreams…and your missing some armour?"

"…Yup…"

"You're a very complicated man Calvus…"

"Like I said, merely a minor whim…" Calvus said smiling.

He looked out of the window again. He couldn't place his finger on it but something was wrong. Not within himself but outside, like the air had become heavier.

"Something is wrong…"

"Come to bed…"

"Something is going to happen…"

Calvus felt two arms wrap round his chest from behind, and a head rest against his shoulders.

"I miss you."

"Its just something…"

"Fine…"

The arms receded. After a few moments Calvus sighed and turned round. Aranwen was lying on the double bed, the sheet draped over her naked body, making her look extremely sexy and desirable. She looked at him with her 'come to bed' eyes.

"Wow…" Calvus said, feeling the blood rush to a certain part of his body.

"You say that every time!" Aranwen said playfully.

"And I mean it every time…" Calvus replied as he unbuttoned his shirt.

****

Marsus clawed at the dirt blocking his path. He could feel the barrier between him and freedom thinning. He was closer to the outside world than he had previously thought. One last push was all he needed. He still had a few hours before the Guards would check on him, he didn't bother to disguise the dirt or the noise. Marsus' insatiable hunger for the outside world consumed him, and his hands bled as he hastened his progress.

"Just a little longer…" he said to himself.

****

Ciel Woodhart was awoken by a harsh barking of his company's sergeant.

"WAKE UP 101st LEGION, PARADE IN TEN MINUTES!"

The door closed with a slam. Ciel crawled out of his bunk and groaned, as did his fellow soldiers. The Breton hastily put his Legion Armour on, and within minutes was shambling through the corridors of the Imperial Legion barracks.

_I fought at the Battle of Garlas Malatar and I get this treatment_, he thought angrily.

Ciel had indeed fought at the battle of Garlas Malatar, and had been on the receiving endof the Divine Crusaders morale filled speeches. He had killed many Daedra that day, as had the rest of the 101st Legion, and that Legion got glory for the months afterwards. But the Legion had taken heavy casualties in that battle, and the dead men had been replaced with raw recruits and transferred officers. This sergeant was one of the transferred officers. Ciel stopped remising on former times and concentrated on what he was doing now.

He was blinded by the morning sunlight as he emerged outside, into a white cobbledcourtyard in front of the barracks. The courtyard was littered with weapon racks, crates of supplies and Imperial Guards on patrol. Ciel lined up with the rest of his platoon. The sergeant paced up and down the line, inspecting the troops. After several passes, he stopped in front of an Altmer.

"Is that a speck of dirt I see on your armour soldier?!" he bawled at the Elf.

"Erm…yes sir."

"Right! Time for a run! Lets go on that nice muddy bit in front of the prison, THEN YOU WILL LEARN THE IMPORTANCE OF KEEPING YOUR ARMOUR CLEAN SOLDIER!"

The sergeant turned on his heel and started marching out of the courtyard. The youngAltmer received muttered abuse and glares from the other Legion. The platoon marched through the white stone gate that led outside the barracks and the prison complex, and turned right onto the muddy grass.

"Line up!" The sergeant shouted.

The men fell into line. Ciel stood to attention, he was towards the back of the platoon. This was a favourite spot for a Legion solider, because you were less likely to receive the commanding officers spittle in your face.

"Right lads, three laps round the field, then back to- what the?"

The sergeant's gaze moved from the soldiers before him to something behind the lines of men. He leaned to the side and looked intently at something behind them. Ciel turned round, as did his comrades, to see a dirt covered man emerge from the ground.

****

Daylight! Marsus shoulder barged the wall of dirt, which collapsed inwards to reveal the outside world. He ran out into it, blinded by joy and the light of the morning sun of his face. He looked up at the sky and laughed. The sky was blue and he was free.

"Ahem!"

Marsus stopped looking at the sky, and looked ahead of him. Thirty Legion soldiers were looking right at him, confused and bewildered. Marsus stared at them for longer than he should have.

"Get him!" A voice cried.

"Oh bugger…" Marsus said.

****

Marsus came to. His blurred vision cleared, and he felt his body being dragged over steps. This was familiar.

"Where shall we stick him?" A voice asked.

"This one 'ere."

"That one is off limits!"

"Oh he'll only be in there for an evening or two, while we plug that 'ole up."

"Fair enough I suppose."

Marsus felt his body hit a cold stone floor.

"Enjoy the change of scenery maggot!" The guard said to him as he locked the door.

Marsus looked around the cell. It was slightly bigger than his previous one, but there were skulls and bones all over the place.

"Curse you Dibella." he said, trying to control his anger.

Then a slimy Dunmer voice from the opposite cell invaded his ears.

"Oh look, an Imperial in the Imperial Prison. Guess they don't-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP BEFORE I RIP YOUR FACE OFF!!" Marsus screamed.

The voice fell silent.

Marsus sat in the corner of the cell. He thought of the goddess Dibella, and the message she had given him five years ago. She had been beautiful, but now he realised that she was beautiful and deceiving.

"Bloody witch tricked me. Get out in five years! I'll be damn lucky."

A few minutes of cold silence passed. He lifted his eyes to look through the bars of the cell door. There was torchlight reflecting off the walls of the spiral staircase leading to the prison corridor, and the faint muffle of voices. Someone was coming down the stairs.

"More damn guards I bet…" Marsus said as he closed his eyes.

He listened to the sounds, and was startled to hear something he did not expect. He had spent five years listening to the boots of the Legion Guards trudging on stone floors, but these boots sounded different, less heavy steps, but somehow had more of a presence. There were three of them. He heard voices, but didn't listen to them. His ears picked up not just the strange boots, but a pair of soft shoes that trod lightly, as if they were made of silk. The pairs of shoes stopped outside of his cell. He opened his eyes, and glanced at the cell door. He saw three people in strange armour, and an old man in rich robes.

"What's this prisoner doing here? This cell is supposed to be off limits!" one of the people, a woman, demanded.

"This prisoner has a name!" Marsus protested, but they didn't listen to him.

They turned and talked quietly, so Marsus couldn't hear them. Finally one of them, an Imperial turned and drew a long curved sword.

"Get to the back of the cell prisoner, or you'll get this in your gut!" he threatened.

Marsus wasn't about to piss off a man who had a weapon when he didn't, and moved tothe corner of his cell. The man kicked the cell door open, making dust fly. He strode into the cell, followed by the other two, whom Marsus could only presume were guards, and the old man. Marsus stood in the corner of his cell, and looked closely at the old man. Helooked familiar. The old man caught Marsus' gaze and stopped in his tracks.

"You…I've seen you…"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2- The Storm

"Let me see your face…" the old man continued.

"Sire, we should really-" one of the Guards started to say.

"Show me your face!" the man commanded in a sterner tone.

Marsus stepped forward into the light from the tiny window, and looked at the old man.

"You are the one from my dreams…then the stars are right...and this is the day! Gods give me strength!"

Marsus studied the old man. He looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and his eyes held much wisdom and knowledge. His rich robes of red and blue were a statement of his wealth, as was the red amulet around his neck. He looked familiar, and it was then that Marsus suddenly realised who this person was. Before his imprisonment, he had seen this man everyday. He had seen him on the Septims he had bought and sold things with for his whole life. Marsus forgot his current predicament, and spoke aloud.

"You're the bloody Emperor!" he blurted out.

"Indeed I am." Uriel Septim said, and then turned to one of the guards. "Captain, this man needs to come with us."

"But sire-"

"That is an order Captain…"

The female guard gave Marsus a suspicious look then said with a hint of bitterness:

"Yes sire…"

The Captain moved to the corner of the cell, and knocked on several stones, listening to each sound.

"This one…" she breathed to herself.

She pushed it using both hands, and dust erupted from around the cell. A door slid open, which had been seamless beforehand. Cold stale air blasted into the cell, from a long dark corridor that delved down underground.

"Quickly now!" the Captain said, ushering the other guards through into the passage.

"Come with us!" the Emperor said quickly, then followed the other guards through the tunnel.

"Come on prisoner, move!" the Captain ordered.

Marsus obeyed, and started to walk quickly through the tunnel, guided by the torchlight from one of the guards ahead. He felt the Captain's presence behind him, and turned. She was constantly looking behind her.

"Who's after us?" he asked casually.

"No-one, shut up and keep moving!" The Captain ordered.

"Wow, women don't usually give me orders unless I have bought them at least two flagons of mead and the use of a bed!" Marsus said.

He didn't know why he said it. True, this woman was in armour and was obviously battle hardened enough to be called 'Captain', but she was the first woman he had seen in five years. He had not flirted for so long.

"Do you want to get out of here alive!?" She snarled. "Keep moving!"

Marsus decided it was wise to shut up. The tunnel had ended; they were now in a large room, one that looked that it had been built by men centuries ago. He jumped as he heard the sound of leather clad feet, walking almost soundlessly around the corners of the room.

"There are people here. And I bet they are not friendly!" he said quickly to the Captain.

"What?" she said urgently.

A knife whizzed out of the dark. In a split second, Marsus pushed the Captain aside, the knife bounced off her armoured shoulder and skimmed across the floor.

"Told you!" he said smugly.

"Form a perimeter around the Emperor!" the Captain ordered as she scrambled to her feet, "That includes you prisoner!"

The other two guards sprang into action, and formed a circle around the Emperor. Marsus ran with the Captain and completed the circle; he would rather fight with the guards than against the unseen enemies. They breathed hard and fast in the stale darkness, the only sound being the tiny drip of water. Suddenly another knife span out of the black. One of the other guards raised their shield in front of the Emperor. The knife ricocheted off of it with a _'ping'_. Marsus listened. The leather clad feet moved around the room, and started to sound slightly louder. He concentrated and listened intently.

"What's wrong with the prisoner?" one of the guards asked.

The feet got louder and faster, and Marsus knew that this malevolent sound would be coming for him. He was a prisoner, the weakest link in the circle, and would be the easiest to get through to get to the Emperor. Marsus was not wearing armour of any kind, and had no weapons. He was going to get attacked by someone whom he didn't know anything about. But there was something crucial about his position. His attacker didn't know anything about him either.

A Dark Elf clad in crimson robes and mysterious armour lunged out of the darkness with an iron shortsword raised above his head. Marsus' reflexes sprang into action, and he caught the Dunmer's arm with one hand, and grabbed his neck with the other. The Dark Elf gurgled in surprise. Still with his hand around the attacker's neck, Marsus wrestled the shortsword from the Dunmer's arm, and with a quick blow sent him to the ground. There was a quick flash of red light around the attacker's corpse, and the armour faded. It had been summoned by a spell. This was nothing like Marsus had ever seen. He turned and saw the somewhat astonished faces of the Emperor's guards. The Emperor himself was smiling.

"I've fought assassins before." Marsus explained.

This did nothing to change their expressions.

"Sire, I can see why you wanted him with us." one of the guards, a Redguard, said with a hint of admiration.

"He has a greater purpose than as a brawler, Baurus." The Emperor said sternly.

"We should get moving." The Captain reminded them.

Marsus felt satisfaction well up within him. He had shown these pompous guards that he could fight, and was not just a worthless prisoner. It was the first grain of respect he had earned in five years, and he relished in it. But he put a hold on his satisfaction and concentrated on the events at hand.

****

Eloe Farr crouched in the darkness. Her arm buzzed with the spell that would summon her armour, her hand was on the hilt of her mace and she waited impatiently. She would either kill the guards and the Emperor, or she would die and earn her place in paradise. For her, it was a win-win situation. She looked across the room. More of her brothers and sisters waited as well, they were like her, perched on platforms from which they would leap down and ambush their prey. The Imperial felt her heart beat faster as she saw torchlight reflected off the old walls. She waited.

They came into view. The Emperor, three guards and what looked like a prisoner. She paused in puzzlement, and looked at the prisoner.

'_Why is there a prisoner with them?' _she thought.

While she was thinking, her brothers and sisters all leapt out of their hiding places. She watched as the guards drew strange curved blades and charged into battle, the prisoner ran with them, and fought with surprising vigor and strength. One of her brothers managed to break out of the combat and made for the Emperor, but with a flash of silver the Emperor drew a shortsword and ran the man through. A few more seconds passed, and after a brutal melee all of her brethren were either dead or wounded. Eloe froze. The eagerness that had filled her before turned to fear and dread. The prisoner looked around, then up, and right into her eyes. Eloe gasped and sprang up, and ran backwards and away from the room, dread and shame filling her body.

****

"What was that?" the Captain asked.

"One of them bolted." Marsus replied.

"Oh…"

"You know what?"

"What?"

"I think you all owe me an explanation."

One of the guards, the male Imperial, placed his hand on his sword hilt.

"Wait Glenroy, I think the prisoner does deserve an explanation. He has proved himself in battle; surely that is enough for you?" the Emperor interrupted.

Glenroy growled a low 'Yes sire' and his hand left his sword hilt.

"Now tell me prisoner, what is your name?" the Emperor asked kindly.

"Marsus…Marsus Tullinus."

"Ah…were you not the one that attacked the Divine Crusader?"

"Yes." Marsus said, trying to control his aggression at his crime being mentioned again.

"Do not worry about your previous transgressions Marsus. That is not what you will be remembered for."

Before Marsus could question what the Emperor had just said, he continued.

"I am fleeing from assassins, they killed my sons, and I am next. These guards are my Blades, and they are escorting me through this secret passage out of the city."

"This passage is not so secret anymore." Baurus warned. "Come on sire we must keep going."

"Very well" The Emperor said.

They continued through the passages for long minutes. Marsus felt that they were drifting through the corridors and rooms aimlessly, like ghosts haunting a ruin. There were no more attacks or ambushes. All was deathly quiet. They soon found themselves in the brightest room yet. Daylight, corrupted with a green tinge from moss on the walls, lit the room dimly. Baurus extinguished his torch.

"We are nearly there." The Captain said, making her way towards an iron gate.

She pulled it. It did not budge. She pulled it again harder. It rattled, but was kept in place by a lock.

"Its locked from the other side…" she said.

"It's a trap!" Glenroy said drawing his sword.

Baurus drew his also, as did the Captain.

"What about that side passage back there?" Baurus questioned.

"It's worth a try." The Captain replied.

Marsus said nothing. He was being ignored again. He looked at the rusted Iron Gate and the darkness beyond it. It gave him the creeps, made him shiver. He quickly turned and followed the Blades to the side passage.

"Damn it! A dead end!" he heard Glenroy curse.

Marsus then heard the sound of leather boots in the darkness. He stuck his head round the corner of the arch that lead into the passage.

"They are coming by the way!" he said almost cheerfully.

"Baurus, Glenroy, to battle! I will stay here with the prisoner and the Emperor!" the Captain ordered.

The two Blades ran forwards, drawing their swords as they pushed past Marsus. Marsus walked casually into the small chamber. The Emperor stood quite calmly in the corner, the Captain was standing guard at the door, her curved sword at the ready. Marsus stood behind the Captain and leant against the wall.

"Well this is fun." he said to no-one in general.

"Shut up!" the Captain hissed.

Sounds of battle came from the next room, the clash of swords, flesh, bone and screams. Marsus smiled on the inside. He was enjoying this; he had not imagined Dibella's promised escape would be so easy, so _fun_, not to mention entertaining.

"Marsus." The Emperor said.

Marsus turned.

"Yes?" he said with a hint of irritation in his voice.

"I can go no further, here - take this and give it to Jauffre, he will know what to do."

Uriel Septim tugged the amulet from around his neck and placed it in Marsus' free hand. Marsus felt the red stone within the amulet vibrate with power. This was no mere trinket.

"He will know where to find my last son." The Emperor continued. "Find him, and close shut the jaws of Oblivion."

Those last words chilled Marsus to the bone. The sense of fun he had been enjoying drained away. His fingers trembled. He looked up at the Emperor, who was smiling. Suddenly, out of the dark, a figure loomed, and drove a knife into the Emperor's back. Uriel Septim fell to the ground with a sigh, the smile still upon his face. The figure then looked directly at Marsus, and declared:

"Stranger, you picked a bad day to side with the Septims!"

****

In the depths of Lake Arrius Caverns, Mankar Cameron opened his eyes and smiled. He arose from his kneeling position under the large statue of Mehrunes Dagon and walked across the stone platform to the marble alter. Three red robed figures stood before it.

"The Emperor is dead brothers. You must now do what I have instructed for you to enter paradise. Go to Kvatch. You know what you must do."

The three robed figures silently turned and left the room. Mankar smiled and returned to his meditation.

****

Marsus raised his iron shortsword and parried the first blow from the assassin. The Captain whirled and ran forward. Marsus and the assassin exchanged more blows, the ring of metal filled Marsus' ears, and the heat of combat pumped through his veins. He managed to enter a lock with the assassin, and forced his blade aside. He shoulder barged the red robed figure, who stumbled. The Captain shouted and brought her sword about in one fell stroke, beheading the assassin. His head rolled across the floor, the body fell limply to the ground. The Captain looked down at the Emperor's corpse and fell to her knees.

"No…" she said hopelessly.

The sounds of battle from the other room stopped. Baurus entered the room, tired and bloodstained.

"The Emperor…" he whispered. "We've failed."

"I've failed." The Captain said on the verge of tears. "Where is Glenroy?"

"He fell. I avenged his death with my blade. I'm sorry Captain."

"He will be remembered with honour." The Captain said sadly, standing up.

Baurus came further into the room and looked at the Emperor's body.

"Wait...where is the Amulet of Kings?" he said.

"Erm…I have it..." Marsus confessed.

"WHAT?" Baurus shouted brandishing his sword. "HOW DARE YOU STEAL FROM THE EMPEROR!!"

"I didn't steal it!" Marsus said quickly. "He gave it to me!"

"Put your sword away Baurus. He is telling the truth. I heard the Emperor talking to him." The Captain interrupted.

Baurus paused, and then sheathed his sword.

"Very well Captain. What are your orders?" he said calmly.

Both Blades had seemed to have got over their grief of the Emperors death, or at least decided to concentrate on more important things, Marsus surmised.

"Well…the Emperor charged the prisoner to give the Amulet to Jauffre." The Captain said, the authority in her voice apparent.

"The Grandmaster?"

"Yes."

"Wouldn't it be better if we took it instead?"

"That is a good idea. Prisoner, give the Amulet to me." The Captain demanded.

Marsus outstretched his hand. The Amulet dangled from its chain, above the Captain's open palm.

"Give it to me!"

"I can't!" Marsus protested. "I can't let go!"

The Captain frowned and tugged at the Amulet. It did not loosen from Marsus' grip.

"Well…looks like the Emperor _really _wanted the prisoner to have it!"

"We could kill him." Baurus suggested.

"I don't think the Emperor would want that!" Marsus said quickly.

The Captain sighed.

"I agree. Baurus, stay here and guard the Emperors body. I will accompany this prisoner to see Grandmaster Jauffre." The Captain said.

Inside, Marsus sighed with relief.

"Very well Captain. May the Nine be with you" Baurus said respectfully.

"And you Baurus." The Captain said. "Come prisoner!"

Marsus followed the Captain, as if he had a choice. She went back into the large room; the rusty Iron Gate had been opened during the battle. Marsus saw Glenroy's dead body slumped against a pillar, with a bloody break in his chestplate. He didn't feel anything for Glenroy; he had just met the man. Still, he took no joy in Glenroy's death. He turned away.

"Rest in peace Brother." The Captain said with a melancholy tone.

They both walked through the dark corridor, which wasn't as long or scary as Marsus had imagined before, until they reached a slimy manhole cover.

"We are going in there?" Marsus questioned.

"Yes we are." The Captain said, mock enthusiasm in her voice.

She produced a key from inside her armour, and unlocked the cover. She pushed it and it slid off with a loud noise. A horrible stench rushed up at them. Marsus grimaced.

"Down we go." She said.

She slid into the hole and grasped the metal rungs on the wall. Marsus followed shortly after. A few seconds later they reached the bottom, and dropped into a pool of sludge and other things besides. They were in the sewers. A curved stone roof enclosed them in, water and slime ran down the walls. Grimy light was cast by torches and braziers. The slow river gurgling was the most prominent sound in the sewers. There was also another thing that Marsus noticed.

"What an incredible smell you've discovered!" Marsus remarked.

"Ugh…" the Captain uttered, and climbed onto the stone pathway beside the river of foulness.

"So…" Marsus said as he climbed up also. "What's your name?"

"Captain." She replied as she waited for him.

"Captain what? Or did your parents have an unusual approach to naming their children?"

To Marsus' surprise, she actually laughed.

"Captain Renault." She said. "But you can still call me Captain."

"Fair enough. You can call me Marsus."

"Okay Prisoner." She said.

Marsus sighed.

"You know I did save you from getting a throwing knife to the throat." He reminded her.

"I know…I saved you from the assassin."

"Hey, I didn't need saving!"

She laughed again. The pair reached a doorway on the path, within which was a grey staircase.

"This way…I think." Renault said.

The stairs curved and opened out to a narrow bridge across the river. Marsus listened, and grabbed Renault's shoulder.

"Stop!" he whispered.

"What is it?" she whispered back.

"I can hear something!"

As soon as they had set foot on the bridge, Marsus had heard a scrabbling noise and an animal like growl.

"I can hear it too…" Renault said, and drew her sword.

The growls got louder, and were accompanied by feral cries. The sound of bare feet on damp stone got nearer and nearer. Marsus readied his shortsword and stood back to back with Renault.

"I think I know what's coming…Goblins." he said.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3- Wilderness

Shadows moved below the bridge, and shot through the doorway to the stairs. Marsus gritted his teeth.

"They're coming from my side!" he warned.

"And mine!" Renault replied.

"Bugger!" Marsus swore.

The first shadow emerged from around the corner, and was illuminated by the dim light. It was just a little shorter than Marsus; the head was oversized compared to its skinny body. Its back was arched, its legs were bandy and its chest was bare. Pale green was the colour of its skin, and its only clothing was a loincloth and a battered leather helm. In its clawed hand was a rusty mace. The creature turned its head, let out a feral growl and leapt through the air.

Marsus caught the mace with his shortsword, and with a skilful flick, sent it flying from the Goblin's loose grip. One sharp slash was all it took to send the creature falling off the bridge and into the sludge below. Another Goblin came round the corner, this time with a rusting iron sword and an old leather shield. It tried the same tactic, leaping through the air with a slash, but Marsus held his blade with both hands to take the impact of the blow. The Goblins sword broke in two at coming into contact with a stronger metal. In a swift stroke Marsus beheaded the Goblin, but caught the body just before it fell. Another came round the corner, and Marsus pushed the body into it, sending it tumbling off the bridge. He heard a sickening crack of skull on stone.

Behind him he heard Renault dispatching foes with her curved blade, and gave a triumphant cry as the last one fell. They both stood there, breathing heavily after the short but brutal fight.

"Nice work." Marsus said as he wiped his sword on his sack cloth shirt.

"Thanks Prisoner." Renault replied.

"What? No 'you did well too'?" Marsus asked.

"Nope."

"Fair enough."

Marsus heard more growls and cries further off in the sewers, echoing through the tunnels.

"Time to go!" he said quickly.

Renault ran across the rest of the bridge, Marsus was hot on her heels. They came into a stone chamber, with a wheel and a metal gate.

"Prisoner, pull the wheel!" Renault ordered.

Marsus did as he was told, and pulled the wheel. Metal gears and thick ropes jolted into motion and the gate opened. The large screech of metal temporarily drowned out the sounds of pursuit.

"Get through quickly!"

Marsus ran through, feeling slightly annoyed that he was being given orders. Renault drew her blade.

"Hey the Emperor wanted me to live!" Marsus reminded her quickly.

"Don't be stupid, its not you that I'm going to cut!" Renault snapped.

She swung her sword above her head, and Marsus heard the snap of a rope. The metal gate descended with a loud thud.

"Clever!" Marsus remarked.

Their pursuit reached the gate, and howled and banged against it, yet their efforts barely made a dent. Renault turned and continued walking through the tunnel.

"They won't bother us anymore." She said with a hint of arrogance.

As they came into another chamber, the growls of frustration faded and ceased. Renault led Marsus through more doorways, along another canal of sewage and into a final chamber, where daylight was shining through a grate at the end of a large pipe. Marsus' feet quickened at the sight of daylight, splashing in the faint trickle of filthy water that went down the pipe and out into Lake Rumare. He reached the rusty Iron Gate before Renault did, and placed his hands around the bars.

"I have the key." Renault stated.

"Let me out." Marsus replied.

Long moments passed until Renault reached him, and slid a thick bronze key into the lock of the gate. Marsus pushed the gate open eagerly, and jumped out of the pipe. He landed onto the hard dirt and rolled down a small slope, when he reached the bottom he lay face up on the floor, drowning himself in sunlight and fresh air.

"This is the second time I've escaped prison in twenty four hours!" he exclaimed to no-one in general.

He then knelt on the floor and wept tears of pure joy.

****

Calvus awoke; the sunlight was shining through the window onto his face. He slid out of bed and went to the window. It must be some time near noon. He had woken up late. _But there is a reason for that, _he thought as he looked at Aranwen's shape under the sheet. He left her be, and dressed in his Dwarven armour, save the helm, and strapped his silver shortsword on his belt. It was a common blade, but it had been through as much as Calvus had, so he loved it like it was an old friend. He went out of the door of his room, and clunked down two sets of stairs to the ground floor of the Kvatch Guild hall.

"Morning Andre." He said to his Breton assistant.

Andre was a good man. He had been trained with Calvus at Chorrol, but only interacted with him on a 'We may be brothers, but I'm mostly going to ignore you' basis. He had been present at the battle of Garlas Malatar, and had lost two fingers and has been wounded in the shoulder by an Auroran axe. Andre did not know Calvus had been there of course, the only ones who did were his Knights and Aranwen. Nevertheless, as Calvus rose through the ranks after his demotion by Modryn Oreyn, he had received respect from Andre, who still took contracts even after his wounds. The pair become good friends after a contract involving a few trolls too many, and their friendship had grown. When Calvus was told that he had been given the charge of running the Kvatch Guild Hall, his only condition was that Andre went with him. And of course after he married Aranwen, she _had_ to come with him.

"Morning Calvus, you're up late." Andre observed.

"Yeeeeaaaah, you can blame Aranwen for that..." Calvus said almost reluctantly.

"I guessed." Andre said with a smirk.

"What have you got for me to sort out today?" Calvus asked, ignoring the remark.

"Three contracts. Some mage woman downtown wants us to kill some escaped Imps locked in her basement; an Elf wants us to deal with a Goblin in his attic, the Nine knows how that happened, and the Arena wants us to sort out a rogue combatant who went mad, maimed two of teammates and ran off into the woods."

"So a normal day then?"

"Yup," Andre said as he handed three pieces of parchment to Calvus.

Calvus looked briefly over each piece of parchment and then looked closer at a particular one.

"Why can't this Elf tell the city guard of his Goblin problem?" he enquired.

"They don't believe him. They are too stubborn to believe they missed a Goblin waltzing into the city."

"Fair enough, I'll send Eddard to deal with it, he needs to kill something. As for the other two... Ceresi can deal with the Imps; I'll send Aranwen, Bethen and Gro-schmug after the Arena rogue."

"Very well, I'll let them know immediately."

"Thank you Andre."

"Least I can do friend."

Calvus watched him walk upstairs to his office. Andre had taken up more of a desk job when he had moved here with Calvus, which was kinder for his wounds. However Calvus sometimes sent him out on contracts when he looked as if he needed one. Calvus decided that he would give him one tomorrow; he could see the Bretons arm sometimes twitch with desire at holding a blade. He then sat at the breakfast table and poured himself a mug of mead. Today was going to be a good day.

****

Eloe Farr crawled out of the manhole cover, outside of the Imperial city. It was here that the survivors of the attack were supposed to gather. She was the only one there, because she had fled while her brothers and sisters fought and died. But she knew they had succeeded, she had heard the guards and the prisoner talking. Though her heart was glad at the success of the mission, she still felt despondent that she had not been part of that victory. Now as she stood under the great white wall of the Imperial City, she knew she had a choice. She could return to Mankar Cameron, and be punished for her failure. Or she could flee, but if she came into contact with any of her brothers or sisters, they would slay her for desertion. One could not join her order, and then get cold feet and leave, this much she knew.

She was on the east side of the island. Lake Arrius Caverns lay in the north east. She looked in that direction and made up her mind. She ran down the bank and into the lake, and swam to the north east.

****

"Are you quite done?" Renault asked after Marsus stopped weeping.

"You know what? No!" he said.

With that, he ran along the rickety wooden jetty in front of him and dived into Lake Rumare. He swan around in circles for a minute or two, then dived down and up again. After he was satisfied, he padded out of the water and onto dry land.

"And the point of that was?" Renault asked.

"I haven't washed in five years. I have spent that time shitting and pissing in a bucket in my cell, which was emptied about I don't know, once a fortnight if I was lucky. Surprising isn't it, when your chucked in prison, you loose your most _basic_ rights!"

Renault looked taken aback. Marsus hadn't meant to be so bitter, yet it had obviously come out in his voice.

"I'm sorry..." she said.

"It's not your fault." Marsus said and turned away. "I would wash if I were you; you probably stink of sewers..."

Renault walked down to the water up to her waist. Her lower half had been coated in sludge, when she emerged from the water it had all washed off. She sat next to Marsus and took off her helm. Long red hair fell from the back of her head, like it were a liquid.

"Do I stink of sewers now?" she asked him.

Marsus sniffed.

"Nope."

He was inspecting the Amulet of Kings in his hand. The red ruby seemed to come alive in the sunlight, outshining the bright gold encased around it. He turned it over in his hands, and watched the red and gold light dance over each other in harmony.

"Who have I got to give this too again?" he asked.

"Jauffre, the Grandmaster of my order. He is currently residing in Weynon Priory, near Chorrol."

"So someone important then?"

"Very important, yes."

Marsus sighed and looked at the ground.

"Well I need some new clothes. I can't travel around in these prison rags!"

Renault looked at him sternly.

"That is true. You can't go around by foot in those clothes. You'd be mistaken for an escaped prisoner or a beggar.

"Technically, I _am _an escaped prisoner..."Marsus pointed out.

"But you carry the Amulet of Kings, so you are an important escaped prisoner...I don't know what we can do about your clothes though, I have no money."

"Damn..." Marsus said as he stood up.

He looked across the water, at an Ayleid ruin on the other bank. He spied the smoke of a fire rising from behind one of the decaying white walls. Renault followed his eye.

"No!" she said.

"Where there is fire, there are people. Where there are people, there are weapons and clothes."

"But we don't know who those people are! They could be travellers or Legion!"

"The only _people _who hang around outside Ayleid ruins are criminals, bandits and outlaws!" Marsus argued.

"They could outnumber us!"

"The Goblins outnumbered us, and the Assassins! You underestimate my fighting ability Captain!"

"I refuse to blindly attack bandits, with no strategy or plan!" she snapped.

"You're lucky then, because I've already thought of one!"

****

The sun beamed down on the Ayleid ruin of Vilverin, just outside of the Imperial City. Thick bushes and vegetation surrounded the ancient structure, encasing all sorts of wildlife. Two bandits sat around a campfire adjacent to the dirty white ruin, not speaking. They both just looked at the fire, chucking the odd twig into the crimson flames. One of the bandits sighed and broke the silence.

"I think I might practice…" the Altmer bandit said, taking an iron bow off of her back.

Her Bosmer accomplice looked at her in wide eyed terror, and jumped up and grabbed the bow off of her.

"Don't! Didn't you hear of the last bandit that 'practised' around here? She got slaughtered by a Fighters Guild member who came out of nowhere!"

The Altmer sighed.

"That happened _once_. Besides, those two had something that the Guild rat wanted! We haven't stolen anything or robbed anyone in months! No-one will come after us. And he didn't come out of nowhere; he was hiding in the bushes. Probably those ones over there!" she said pointing.

The Bosmer sat down and eyed two gravestones nearby.

"I still don't like it…" he said.

"I don't care!" she said grabbing the bow back off of him.

The wood elf looked around nervously as the high elf drew an arrow from her quiver, and aimed at an apple balanced on a crate. The arrow hit home, the apple exploded.

"I don't see anyone leaping out on us!" she said in a mocking tone.

"That's because you didn't shoot the bushes…" the Bosmer replied, obviously annoyed.

"Fine!"

An arrow whizzed straight into said bushes, several sparrows and crows flew up in terror, making the Bosmer jump.

"See? Nothing! No-one is coming to kill us! Relax!"

She turned to look at her fellow bandit and smirked. He turned away in disgust. When she turned around again, she saw an Imperial, in what looked like the clothes of a prisoner sprinting towards her.

"Good morning!" he exclaimed as a shortsword flashed from his belt and into the Altmer's chest. The bandit screamed in pain and fell to the floor. The Bosmer shouted in alarm and drew two small silver daggers from his belt, but as he was about to charge he felt something sharp hit the back of his neck. And he knew no more.

****

Marsus had dragged both the bodies into the nearby bushes, and stripped them of their armour.

"Told you it would work!" he said smugly.

"Fine." was all that Renault would say.

Marsus adjusted the fur cuirass he had looted from the Bosmer's corpse. It didn't quite fit, but it would do. He kicked the ex-bandits head into the bush, to join the ex-bandits headless body. Marsus had also taken the fur greaves from the Altmer woman and her rough leather boots as well.

"Ah. I feel better for a suit of armour on my skin, even if it is only fur." He said with a hint of nostalgia.

"Can we go now? We need to see Jauffre as soon as possible!" Renault said with annoyance.

Marsus slid the two silver daggers into his belt, and tested the weight of the Altmer's steel shortsword in his hand.

"All in good time, my dear Captain…" he said as he sheathed it.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4- Wanted: Hero

The only sounds on the Red Ring Road were the trudging of two pairs of boots along the rough stone, aside from the occasional bird on the trees. Marsus and Renault had been walking for over three hours, and had not stopped once. This did not bode well with Marsus, but he didn't bother complaining. Renault had a reserve of steel, once she had made up her mind _that was how it was going to be._Marsus wasn't sure if that was a good or bad quality, but for the moment he had to live with it. They had been mostly silent since they left the Ayleid ruin, as they needed to listen for the faintest signs of an ambush or wildlife. But they had not seen hide or hair of bandits or bears, so Marsus decided to break the silence.

"How long before they find him do you think?"

Renault knew exactly who 'him' was.

"Not long. The Palace guards knew where we went and where we were heading. They'll know soon enough."

"Any idea who the assassins were?"

"No."

That was as much as Marsus got out of her for the next hour. He then thought what would happen if he ran away. Renault would probably kill him before he managed to get ten paces away. He wasn't near skilled enough to take on a fully equipped Blade with her wits about her. Besides, despite her annoying qualities, Marsus didn't really want to kill her. Or die by her hand.

Some time later, they reached the crossroads, if they could be called that. A plethora of stone roads ran over each other, stained by hoof prints and mud. From one small patch of grass in the centre protruded a tall post, with many pointed signs facing different directions. The post was like some gnarled dead tree, on a green island surrounded by mud and stones.

"We'll rest here for a few minutes..."Renault announced.

"Thank the Nine..." Marsus muttered under his breath, and sat down below a tree.

Suddenly the peaceful sounds of the wilderness were broken by a cacophony of bells tolling in the Imperial City. Crows, sparrows and jackdaws exploded from the trees around them at the sound of the noise. Marsus turned and ran up a small hillock, to get a clear view of the city across the glittering lake. The bells were accompanied by town criers, their voices echoing off the great walls.

"_The Emperor is dead...ad...ad...d"_

_They know, _Marsus thought.

Many messengers on horseback charged out of the stables outside the white walls, but to Marsus looked like mere black specks. They rode along the great bridge, and dispersed into many different directions when they reached its end.

"What are you doing?" Renault asked with plain annoyance.

"The City knows. The Emperor is dead. Could you not hear the bells?"

"Of course I could hear the damn bells!" Renault snapped. "It doesn't mean we should hang around here!"

The sound of horses' hooves approached. Three Legion guards mounted on the fast black horses of Cheydinhal thundered past them on the road. One of them broke off and galloped towards the Black Road, the others carried on the Red Ring Road.

"Messengers... one for Chorrol, the others for Bruma and Cheydinhal..." Renault said. "We should make haste! News of the Emperors death will reach the corners of the Empire fast!"

She then turned and half jogged towards the Black Road. Marsus ran to catch up.

"Are we going to eat any time soon?" he asked hopefully.

"No."

Marsus hated that about Renault. She was so damn direct, and she still hadn't called him 'Marsus' yet. And he was going to be stuck with her until Weynon Priory, where he could hopefully get rid of the Amulet and her as well. But there was still a long way to go. He tried to get himself back into the mindset of putting one foot in front of the other, while the mind stayed back. He achieved it quite quickly.

****

Calvus was sat at the desk in his room. His quill bobbed along many parchments that required his signature: wage slips, letters to the Guildmaster, contract approvals and applications for membership. He sighed and laid his quill down, then thoughtfully bit into an apple that had been waiting on a silver plate.

"And I thought today was going to be a good day..." he murmured to himself.

He put the apple back down and picked up another piece of parchment. It was a post-contract report that had been lying on his desk for almost a week. As his eyes darted over the dull document, his eyelids became heavy and he let himself fall into sleep. After a few minutes of blissful blackness, he saw his father, striding towards him through a grey mist. He was wearing his priests' garb, but his staff was on his back and he had a strange sword buckled onto his belt. He came closer and closer, until he finally said something. _You need to sharpen your sword Son. _

Calvus jerked awake. He had dreamt of his father before, but not in such a way as that. Dreams were usually such abstract things, strange thoughts thrown around in darkness, but this had been so clear. He got up and almost tripped as he ran towards the armour stand, where his silver shortsword was propped up. Sure enough, the blade was as blunt as a stone. Calvus suddenly decided that his blade was more important than paperwork.

****

Five hours had almost passed, and dusk was just beginning to show her face. They still hadn't rested, even after they had been attacked by a bold wolf. Although this bold wolf was now a dead wolf, Marsus was still annoyed. He was sweating through his fur armour, his legs ached and the shortsword he had taken was chafing against his leg. Yet he could see no hint of weariness in Renault, despite all they had been through.

_How can she cope in heavy armour? _Marsus thought. _Maybe I'm just unfit... I suppose that's what five years of prison life does to you... _

"We are almost there..." Renault said in a tone that was hopeful.

"You said that _three _hours ago!" Marsus groaned.

"No I'm serious, look ahead."

Marsus lifted his eyes ahead of him. Down a hill lay a small complex of buildings. Their shape and colour reminded him of the Priory he had fought Calvus in. He pushed the thoughts of his failing behind him, and replaced them with joy at finally being able to sit down. Four buildings there were: the main Priory building, a small chapel, a cottage and some stables behind the main building. The sight was even more pleasing than one of an inn, many of which they had passed along the way.

Renault kept her pace towards the priory and Marsus trailed behind her. When they reached the thick oak door, Renault banged upon it three times. After a brief silence the door was answered by a balding monk, clad in black robes with a curved sword at his side. He instantly beckoned them inside, looked outside quickly then shut the door.

"What is your business sister?" the monk asked curtly.

"It concerns the Emperor. I must see the Grandmaster immediately."

"Go on up." The monk said, but gave Marsus a wary look before he walked away.

Renault jogged up the stairs, whereas Marsus only had the energy to trudge. Renault was standing in front of a desk, behind it was sat an old Breton, with grey hair and a ponytail that fell to his shoulders, and wore the same plain black robes of his fellow monks. Marsus stood behind Renault, and watched as the man peered at them over a small tome. He snapped the book shut and laid it carefully down on the mahogany desk.

"Captain Renault? I can only assume that you are here to tell me what I already know." The man said with a raised eyebrow.

"No Grandmaster Jauffre. I have the Amulet of Kings." She said.

Jauffre's eyes widened.

"What?!"

Marsus decided it was time to speak up.

"She does not have the Amulet - Jauffre is it? - I do!" he said as he drew it out from his person.

Jauffre stood up; his chair fell to the floor.

"It cannot be. Give it to me!"

Marsus took a step forward and held out his hand. Jauffre took the Amulet with a swipe. That took Marsus by surprise as he hadn't been able to physically let go of the damn thing.

_Maybe that's the power it had. The Emperor entrusted it to me to give it to Jauffre. I'm not needed anymore, _he thought.

"It is...by the Nine it is, the Amulet of Kings!" Jauffre proclaimed with a smile.

However the Breton's instincts wiped the smile off his face, and he looked at Marsus with suspicion.

"Who are you? How did you come by this?"

Renault spoke up for him.

"He is a prisoner, who was present when the Emperor died. The Emperor entrusted it to him, the Nine knows why..."

"I _was_a prisoner!" Marsus snapped, "My name is Marsus Tullinus. Captain Renault however, has not graced me with actually using it!" he said with a smouldering look.

Jauffre ignored the comment and turned to Renault.

"Captain, you have done well, but this is the best we can salvage from this situation I fear. The Emperor and all his sons dead, this does not bode well for the realm. And we don't even know who killed him!"

"It wasn't the Dark Brotherhood, these assassins wore red." Renault offered.

"The Morang Tong wouldn't dare either, unless some of them went rogue...."

"They were of all races, not all were Dunmer."

"Ahh...speculating about the circumstances of Uriel's death will not help us now. I will keep the Amulet of Kings safe here." Jauffre finished with a sigh.

"Good! Time for me to go!" Marsus said cheerfully as he turned on his heel.

"Where do you think you're going?" Renault said.

Marsus froze.

"Away. You know. To enjoy life."

"You think that you can just walk away from this? This is far too important! You are entangled in this now, you can't walk away."

"The realm is under threat Marsus; we need every man we can get, prisoner or no." Jauffre said sternly.

Marsus thought for a moment and then turned around.

"How much under threat exactly? Under threat as is 'End of the world' or just 'Help, we have no money?'"

"It could mean that the Empire would crumble under invasion..." Jauffre said.

"So I presume you would need a...I don't know...a hero of some sorts?" Marsus asked tactfully.

"Yes. One would be helpful..."Jauffre replied carefully.

Marsus sat down at the chair in front of Jauffre's desk.

"I'm listening..." he said with a sinister smile.

****

Eloe walked nervously up the narrow path to the decaying wooden door. Lake Arrius did not gleam in the Sun; it was as welcome on the landscape as a wine stain on a cloak. It just mellowed, and its sight did not strike beauty into any viewers' heart. Eloe's heart was trembling as she opened the door into the damp darkness. She walked through the doorway, down a small tunnel and into a chamber, in which a great brazier burned, along with a banner of the Mythic Dawn, and the doorman clad in red. He was holding a torch, and greeted her with a simple "Sister". He opened the door for her with a nod, and Eloe found her feet leading her inside.

As she walked past her brothers and sisters, they said nothing, they just looked at her. She had not told a soul of her cowardice, yet they somehow _knew. _The first voice to talk to her was that of an Acolyte, ordering her to see their leader. The voice washed over her, yet her feet obeyed, and lead her to the great antechamber. As she walked down the great stone stairs, she saw the blue robed elf on the stained grey stone platform, supporting the great statue of Mehrunes Dagon. As she reached the bottom of the platform, Mankar spoke.

"You failed in your duty. Your brothers and sisters fought and died, whilst you stood by and watched. It matters not, the Emperor is dead." He said without turning.

Eloe remained silent.

"You failed in your task. I would normally punish this by expulsion...but of course to stop you spreading the secrets of our order that would mean..."

He turned around with a face devoid of any emotion.

"Death."

Eloe looked down; her breath caught in her throat and caused her to choke. Mankar turned around again.

"However, you have returned here, so you are loyal and still wish to enter paradise I assume."

Eloe nodded slowly. Mankar still had his back to her.

"Good. You will not be expelled from our order. But your transgression can not be allowed without punishment. Fifty lashes with a whip should remind you of your duty and your loyalty."

Eloe said nothing, but turned and walked back to the door to the cavern complex. There an old bear-like Nord in familiar crimson robes was waiting for her.

"Come with me." He said with a malicious grin.

****

Night had fallen, and the room was illuminated with lanterns, naked flames were too risky around books. Marsus sat sprawled in the chair before Jauffre's desk. His fur cuirass and boots lay on the floor, and a cup of wine was in his hand.

"_This is heaven!_" he exclaimed.

His legs and feet, which had been previously burning, were now cooling on the tough wooden floor of the Priory, but to Marsus the floor was as soft as leaves compared to the stone roads in the wilderness.

_I'm glad I didn't bugger off straight away,_he thought. Renault was busying herself somewhere else, it was the first time he had her out of his sight since he had met her. Jauffre returned from wherever he had been and sat behind his desk.

"Please make yourself at home." He said with a hint of sarcasm.

"I already have!" Marsus replied with a curt smile. "I thank you for your hospitality Grandmaster. You certainly know how to care for a man."

"We have had much experience..." Jauffre said as his eyes fell to a map on his desk.

Marsus took a sip of wine, and then placed it carefully on the floor beside his chair.

"So...like I said before: I'm listening. What would you have me do?"

"Well as you know, the Emperor and his sons are dead. No-one sits on the throne. The Dragonfireshave gone out for the first time in centuries. The Amulet of Kings is key in all this, though in what way I do not know."

It was at this moment a thought struck Marsus, and all previous desires of heroism were submerged in seriousness.

"Just before the Emperor died, he said these words to me... 'Close shut the Jaws of Oblivion.' Does that mean anything to you?"

Jauffre raised one eyebrow.

"Close shut the Jaws of Oblivion..."

He then frowned, got up from his desk and walked over to the nearest bookshelf and started skimming the titles. Marsus took another sip of wine. Jauffre sat back down again with a dusty tome in his hands, and flicked through to a particular page, and made a small exclamation when he found the right one.

"It is said that when the Amulet of Kings was first created, the blood of man and the blood of Akatosh were fused, and as long as the dragonblood sat on the throne, the Empire was safe. The Emperor's mention of Oblivion does not bode well with this...I will think about this while you are away, for now I need you to do something for me."

"And what would that be?" Marsus asked.

"One of the Emperor's sons still remains alive. He is a bastard, but he shares the dragonblood, so his life is in danger. Uriel had me put him into hiding when he was a baby, in the city of Kvatch. He is a grown man now. Martin is his name, and he works as a priest in the Chapel."

"And you would have me find this Martin..."

"And bring him back here, yes."

Marsus considered for a moment then drained his cup.

"I might as well. I suppose I kind of owe my freedom to the Emperor anyway...when do I leave?"

"As soon as possible."

"The roads are dangerous at night."

"I have spare arms and armour here in the Priory. I'm going to send Renault with you as well."

_Damn! _Marsus thought.

"Is there no-one else?" he pleaded "I've had to put up with her ever since she strode into my cell..."

"I am sorry, but she has insisted that she goes with you. And I see no reason why not..."

Marsus sighed.

"Fine then..." he said reluctantly.

During the next hour Marsus swapped his fur cuirass for one of boiled leather, more comfortable boots and a hard leather helm. He kept his weapons, for they were in good enough condition. Jauffre had allowed him to take a horse, so he saddled up a paint horse from the stables and rode out to the front of the Priory, where Renault was waiting for him, in full armour, mounted upon a Chestnut horse and with a flaming torch in her hand.

"Hello again" he said dryly "What route does her majesty want to take to Kvatch?"

She turned her head and narrowed her eyes at him for the sarcasm. Marsus smiled at that look, he was getting good at annoying her.

"Well since you complained that our last journey was boring, I think we'll go across country. Should be far more interesting!" she said with a smirk.

Marsus grunted in response.

"I hope so."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5- Oblivion Unleashed

The city of Kvatch now slept in the dusk. A few drunkards and beggars were roaming the streets, but little else. The town guards patrolled the streets with torches, and nothing was amiss, no thieves, no assassins, no fugitives, just another peaceful night. And yet outside the walls three figures in red robes, which looked like a bloody crimson in the darkness, stood patiently a fair distance from the gate. The Chapel bells tolled twelve times.

"It is time." a voice said.

"Can we do this?" another said.

"You have doubts Eldamil?" A third voice said, hinting at betrayal.

"No, of course not Allian! I meant our skills. This is the first time I have conjured one of...those things..."

"We are perfectly able to do this Eldamil, if you think you can't, maybe you shouldn't be here." the first voice intonated.

"I was born to do this!" Eldamil snapped back.

"Then do it..."

The High Elf raised his hands; in them was a black stone circled in orange fire. He chanted an evil tongue, words unintelligible to those that did not know their meaning. After he finished, the stone rose from his hands, and exploded into a fiery portal, burning with red orange and yellow fire. Brimstone spewed from it, forming an arch around the portal, harsh claws of granite rose from the ground, and cooled. Steam and smoke rose from the Oblivion Gate, and from it appeared a Dremora, clad in Daedric armour. He wore no helm, his ash black skin, lethal horns and red demonic eyes were visible to the three figures. He looked at them, and smiled, revealing sharpened fangs. The Dremora Lord drew a Daedric longsword from his side and roared.

Other Oblivion Gates exploded into existence, and by now the guards on the walls were shouting warnings. Dozens of Daedra marched from the gates, Scamps, Dremora of many ranks, Atronachs of flame, frost and lightning, Clannfears with claws as sharp as swords and the mighty Daedroth. They stood at the walls screeching, by now the cities garrison was on the walls, arrows and amateur spells were being fired from the top of the walls. The Daedra fired spells and arrows in return. Several men fell from the walls, charred by a Flame Atronach's fire spell.

"There is still one gate to open Eldamil!" Allian cried, the bloodlust taking over his senses.

Eldamil smiled maliciously, and rose his hands up into the air once more, alight with red magika flowing from his fingertips and chanting one great demonic verse. The Great Gate opened in front of the others, and even more Daedra charged out and into the fray. Scamps were climbing the walls, Dremora were battering against the gates and the Atronachs fired spells at the defenders. And after what seemed like an hour of fighting, it came.

Allian turned to Eldamil and said:

"Praise be, friend. You have just begun the Mythic age once again!"

Eldamil laughed as the flames reflected in his eyes.

****

The Chapel bells were tolling, but that did not wake Calvus. What woke Calvus were the screams. He sat up, the city was burning, and he could smell it.

"Aranwen!" he said urgently, leaping out of bed. "Get up, get up!"

Aranwen sat up as well, and instantly started getting dressed.

"What's happening?" she asked, panic in her eyes.

"You know that bad thing I said was going to happen...it's happened..." Calvus said as he slipped into a silk shirt.

By the time he started putting on his Dwarven armour, Aranwen already had her Iron Cuirass and Greaves on, and she was running downstairs, shouting to awaken the others. When Calvus finally got his Helm on and his silver sword at his side, he took the stairs three at a time, and reached the entrance hall. The doors at the end of a short corridor were barred, and there was something banging against them. The vibrations shook the ornamental weapons on the walls, the silver, brass and steel gleamed red in the light of the fires. The other Guild members were waiting, swords and bows at the ready.

"Where shall we go Calvus?" Andre asked.

"Who are they? What are they?" Calvus asked in return.

"Daedra. Don't know why, but they are attacking the city, Calvus _where shall we go_?!"

The other Guild members looked at him imploringly, Calvus thought quickly.

"We stay here until we can hold no longer, and then we flee. Where and when, I don't know. Just stick together."

The other men and women nodded solemnly. Calvus drew his silver shortsword and raised his shield. The doors burst open and the large lizard-like Daedroth roared. Four arrows flew from bows and struck the creature's thick hide, but did little to deter it from its rage. It charged into the building, with one sweep of its arm it destroyed a cupboard, from which silverware went flying. It struck a female Breton with one of its claws, and she flew across the hall, her shortsword hung limply in her hand. Calvus managed to jump back from another swing, allowing three others members to hack at its arms. The Daedroth cried out on pain and stumbled forward. A burly Orc seized this opportunity, and buried his large battleaxe into its back. The creature gave a sickening death rattle, and slumped forward onto the floor.

The doors were wide open, and Scamps were throwing fireballs down the hall. The Fighters Guild members dived round the corners of the walls but one female Redguard was too late, and she was struck in the chest by three of them. She disintegrated into black ash. A fire fight took place down the corridor, fireballs screaming down from one side, arrows from the other. The four archers felled four Scamps in a single volley, but then came several Dremora Caitiffs, led by a Kynmarcher. One Caitiff fell to arrows, but the others continued forward. The two sides clashed in that small hall, and in that fight the Fighters Guild's numbers were nothing.

Calvus ran one Dremora through with his sword and bashed another with his shield. Next to him, Andre hacked at the stunned Daedra with his steel longsword, but on Calvus' other side, the Altmer next to him fell with a Daedric axe in his chest. Then Calvus saw the Kynmarcher. He had a large Daedric warhammer, long fangs and crimson eyes. His grey skin was tattooed with runes of evil, strange lines and glyphs that were as red as his eyes. He smiled as he charged at Calvus, the warhammer in the middle of a sweeping arc.

An arrow hit him between the eyes, and he stumbled back, but did not fall. Calvus leapt forward and hacked at his arms, but his blade rebounded off the Daedric armour. The Kynmarcher swung again, but missed and slammed into a wall, shattering the stone bricks. Calvus then swung at the head of his foe. The blade sliced through the middle of the Kynmarcher's head, black blood bubbled out of the fatal wound and smeared the walls as the Daedra fell to the floor. Calvus looked around. The other Daedra were dead, but at a high price. Six of his men lay dead, and another three were wounded. He had to get out of there.

"Men with me!" he cried, and ran out into the square outside.

What he saw chilled him to the bone.

Bodies lay everywhere: Men, women, children, man, mer and beast. There were Daedra bodies as well, but not even close to as many as the civilians. More Daedra were flowing into the square, and soon filled it. Calvus then watched as a group of the city's civilians came in from the opposite direction, running from the fires. They were escorted by guards, but few had weapons. It was then Calvus knew what he must do.

"Men! Protect those civilians!" he cried.

His Fighters Guild grouped together behind him. Calvus charged forward.

"For the Nine!" He cried.

He didn't check if they were following him. He didn't need to. He knew they were behind him as they crashed into the ranks of the Daedra, as they screamed and roared, and as the black blood flowed down his blade.

****

Marsus guessed that it was just past midnight. Their journey was illuminated by moonlight, and nothing had come upon them in the wilderness. The trees were thick and frequent, and their horses trod carefully on the treacherous ground. Renault's torch had burnt out not long ago, so the going was even slower. Suddenly Renault stopped her horse, which forced Marsus to as well.

"Problem?" he asked.

There had been many small streams or logs that meant they had to halt their progress while they went around or over them; Marsus suspected that this was another mere small obstacle.

"Shh!" Renault hissed.

Marsus complied, and listened. The dead night was silent, save an owl calling across the forest in its strange tongue. After it stopped, he thought he could hear something. The sound was like a thousand feet rumbling slowly towards them, accompanied by feral cries. Marsus was no forester, but he could tell that this wasn't good.

"We need to get out of here_, now_." Renault said urgently.

"What is it?"

"I don't know, but its coming here, and we need to go!"

Without a further word, she drove her heels into her horse's flanks and charge through the forest. Marsus followed, and his paint horse galloped through the trees. They loomed out of the darkness in horrible shapes, like accusing sentinels, branch like fingers pointed at him, tormented him. One slapped him in the face, but he kept going, blood streaming down his cheek. Something then thumped him in the chest, bringing red hot pain and he collapsed off the horse and onto the hard ground. He lay there for a while, while his partially concussed brain tried to reassess the situation.

_Chest...hurts. Thing on four legs that 'neighs'......Horse: Probably bolted, or is hanging around somewhere. Annoying attractive stubborn good looking bitch......Renault: Probably ridden off without me. Strange noise: Probably going to eat me in a minute. Wait...that's not good..._

He sat up, and waited for his blurred vision to clear. He twisted his body round, and started to crawl along the forest floor. Rotten fallen leaves lubricated his journey, but there was one crucial thing here that hadn't been anywhere else in the accursed forest: A breeze. Marsus then realised, he was at the edge of the forest. In front of him were the grasslands of county Kvatch. That wasn't the only thing in front of him though. Renault sat upon her horse and looked at him.

"I was worried."

"_Really?" _Marsus groaned, and stood up.

The landscape swirled like milk in a butter churn, which made Marsus collapse to his knees.

"Where's my horse?" he mumbled.

"I took the liberty of tying him to a nearby tree. He seemed quite spooked."

Marsus stayed in his knelt position, and groaned in pain.

"Are you okay?" Renault said dismounting.

"A...tree branch hit me...I'll be fine..."

"Strange, I didn't notice any that would knock someone from their saddle..." Renault said curiously.

She knelt next to Marsus, and put her hand on his chest.

"By the nine..." she said.

"Yes, it hurts!" Marsus cried.

"You were hit by a fireball. Your cuirass is charred..." she said drawing back.

Marsus looked down. Sure enough there was a charred hole in his leather cuirass. His undershirt had not survived, and the hairs on his chest had been singed.

"Oh shit..."

Renault stood up and drew her blade.

"There is something in that forest..." she said, standing protectively over him. "But we can't leave now, not in your current state."

Marsus collapsed down on the floor, and closed his eyes.

He had strange dreams. He dreamt that he faced a battle line, but instead of soldiers it consisted of wild animals, deer, boars, bears and foxes. They ran at him, but as they neared they ran around him. Then another line faced him, but now the sky was red, and the line was made up of Daedra, specifically Scamps, they raised their hands and fireballs rained down upon him.

Marsus screamed.

****

The battle felt so quick. Calvus had sliced, cut, stabbed and bashed countless Daedra; his Dwarven armour was pasted with blood. It was then he noticed, wiping the blood from his visor, the machine.

It was like a huge black maggot, with long spindly legs and a cone shaped body. Its neck was made of articulated black plates, and its head was one of fire, a glowing stone in the middle. Around the head were four great rotating spikes, their tips were red hot. It towered over the main gate, and then lurched forward. It walked right over the gatehouse, its legs knocked chunks of stone across the square. It turned its head towards the Fighters Guild, and a stream of red fire flowed from it. Within a few seconds the Fighters Guild had melted into a pile of molten slag and ash. It then turned to the building next to it, the Mages Guild, and sent a huge orange fireball at it. The resulting explosion threw Calvus and his remaining men across the square, tongues of blue and green fire leapt up in a terrible chorus, sparks flew and settled over the other buildings.

Calvus was sprawled on the ground on the other side of the square, incapacitated and unable to get up. Finally, the machine raised its head, and sent a fireball at the chapel. One of its great spires buckled, swayed a moment, and then fell to the ground, blocking off one of the streets. Calvus rose to one knee, and the sound within his Dwarven helm was strange, he could swear that the machine was _laughing_. At that moment more Daedra trickled into the square from over the walls, mostly Scamps and Dremora Churls. Calvus rose again, shook some of the blood from his sword and met them with his silver blade. More and more Daedra soon filled the square, and Calvus knew that his men were exhausted and could not last. But then he heard a shout, and saw some of the Kvatch town guard, led by the Guard Captain Savlian Matius, hacking their way through the Daedra, civilians ran around them, holding scythes and pitchforks as weapons, and fled through the gate. They ran under the great machine and out through the battered gates, some fell, but most made it. In a blink they were gone, but the temporary distraction had bought Calvus and his men some time of respite. The Daedra then turned and faced the Fighters Guild again, snarling and growling.

"Come on then you bastards!!" Calvus screamed at them.

They roared back in return, and more Daedra came into the square from behind Calvus. They were surrounded. Calvus backed up, and his back bumped up against Aranwen's. She was covered in blood also, and she had an arrow notched. Andre ran to them as well, his steel longsword and shield battered and scratched. The Orc that had slain the Daedroth in the hall was with them as well, and had his battle axe ready. And that was it. Four out of the fifteen members of the Kvatch Fighters Guild were still alive, and Calvus guessed that the number would soon be zero.

And yet, he did not feel sad. He did not fear his passing, not in that tense moment between the four members and the score of Daedra that surrounded them. Instead he felt a rising bloodlust, caused by the loss of his men, his city and his home.

"You bastards!" he bawled again. "You ugly godforsaken sons of bitches! This was MY home, MY city, MY life. You are going to pay dearly for this! COME ON LADS, ITS TIME TO SLAUGHTER!!"

But then another shout called through the square, and the screams of civilians. From one street another clump of people ran, led by a few guards and...Brother Martin? The priest held an iron dagger, and fired a spell at several Daedra. The ball of frost exploded, and five Daedra succumbed to its power. The civilians ran past and were making for the Chapel. Calvus decided that he would as well.

"The Chapel! Make for the Chapel!" he cried, and hacked a path through the Daedra, until he reached the wooden doors. Brother Martin stood on the steps, ushering people inside. Calvus stayed with him, until all of his remaining men and civilians were in. Soon it was just him and Martin, exposed to the wrath of the Daedra horde. The great machine _looked _atthem, and then started walking backwards the way it came. The Daedra did not charge, just watched them.

They made their way inside slowly, and closed the great oak door with a loud bang. The chapel was silent.

Finally Brother Martin spoke.

"We're safe now..."

"Safe." Calvus agreed "Safe but trapped....."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6- On the road to Hell

Marsus came to, slowly. He half opened his eyes; the pink dawn sky was blurry and faint. He closed his eyes and tried again. The pink sky was a bit clearer, but there was now a bronze figure standing over him, saying something in a distorted voice. The figure came fully into focus, and it was Renault.

"Marsus? Marsus!" she called.

Marsus groaned, and lifted his head up slightly, his eyes fully open.

"Something's wrong..." he said, still partly groggy.

"What, what's wrong?" Renault asked on the verge on panic.

"You actually used my name..." he replied with a small cheeky smile.

Renault's panic vanished and was replaced with the expression that Marsus was used to, a scowl. He laughed aloud and managed to get to his feet. He was a little unbalanced, but was able to stand. A few feet away were the bodies of three small Scamps, piled in a heap and leaking thick blood.

"That explains the fireball..." he said, and felt the hole in his leather cuirass. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"A few hours..." Renault replied. "You screamed aloud more than once."

Marsus had learnt to read people. It was rather easy, once you knew the signs. He knew the greed in the eyes of mercenaries he had hired, the lust shown by young sailors for the whores at the docks, the love a mother showed for her child. He would not admit it out loud, but he had seen pride and goodness in his brother's face on that day he had fought him, and had seen none of the maliciousness or hatred he had expected. That had been part of the reason he could not bring himself to kill him. And on that day when Calvus had condemned him to rot in prison, he had seen pain and sorrow in his eyes, yet determination and assurance. And now, in this place, for a fraction of a second, Renault had betrayed one emotion on her face: Concern.

"Ahh..." Marsus said, cleverly concealing his discovery. "I guessed you killed them..."

"After you fainted there was a stampede of wild animals from the trees. They ran around us, and then the Scamps came out. I killed all three of them, and since have waited for you to wake up."

"Why not run away? Leave me here? The only reason you stuck with me was to deliver the Amulet, which I no longer possess..."

"I'm not an inhumane monster!" she snapped back. "I actually value human life, even if it is just an arrogant prisoner!"

Marsus laughed aloud, and for some considerable time.

"What's so funny?" Renault asked suspiciously.

"Nothing...nothing at all..." Marsus said as he burst out laughing again.

Renault scowled and mounted her horse. Marsus went to his horse and pulled out a new undershirt to replace his burnt one.

"Sitting about laughing isn't going to get us to Martin..."Renault said with disdain.

"Oh a priest can wait! Besides it's not been that long!" he said as he unbuckled his leather cuirass.

"You heard what Jauffre said! Dark times are upon us. We shouldn't be finding Daedra _in the woods_."

Marsus was halfway through tearing off his old shirt when he stopped and thought about what Renault had just said.

"Your right, we shouldn't. The only explanation I could think of was Bandit Hedge Wizards or Conjurers..."

"So then we should get a move on!"

Marsus dropped his old shirt to the ground and slipped on the new one. He left his cuirass undisturbed on the floor as he untied his horse and mounted it.

"How long did you stand over my unconscious body?" he asked.

"About three hours."

"I thank you for keeping me safe Captain Renault." He said politely.

Renault shot him a suspicious glance then cautiously replied:

"Your welcome...Prisoner..."

Marsus laughed and kicked the horse's flanks. It took Renault almost an hour to catch up with him.

****

Eloe was slumped in the corner of her cell, if it could be called that. It was more like a stone cupboard, formed by the rock of the cave. One squat solitary candle spluttered in the corner, its wax melting into a small pool upon a battered wooden stool. She had been stripped of her Mythic Dawn robe, and had only her undergarments and the candle to warm her. She shivered in the corner; her bare skin was scratched from the rough floor. Her grey hair, which she usually made sure shimmered in the light, was greasy and matted. She took this time to reminisce on her life, for it was all she could cling onto in this dim place.

She had been at the young age of twenty five when she had joined the Mages Guild, and took interest in the old books and scrolls. And she had found the first edition of the 'Commentaries on the Mysterium Xarxes'. She had read it with great interest, and then the second edition, then she had gone to great lengths to find the third, travelling all the way to Morrowind to find one. She had then met with the Order, who had given her the forth book. She was intelligent, and hence found her way to the Mythic Dawn Shrine from the clues given in the books, and so she joined the order, her initiation being the sacrifice of a Breton priest of Akatosh. Eloe loved the warm blood on her hands, and for six years helped the Mythic Dawn in its plans. She had preserved her youth well, she was beautiful, slender and shy, despite her joy at the slaying.

But now she lay in her cell, cold and shivering. The door then creaked open, and one of her brothers issued a gruff 'With me'. She shakily stood up and did as they said; they led her into a small chamber, with two sets of stocks planted in the ground. In one of them was an Argonian, naked to his waist. Suddenly one of the jailers ripped off her under bodice, and roughly placed her in the stocks. Eloe let them without so much of as a sob. A wooden door in the cave wall opened, and out came the Nord jailer, with a whip. Eloe knew that this was her punishment. She was ready to face it.

But then her eyes widened at the make of the whip. There was no doubt about it, it was Daedric. The handle was thick, and required even a Nord to hold it with two hands. A large Dremora head was engraved onto the handles, and black and red runes that glowed with a mild flame enchantment. They were designed by the cruel Dremora to cause as much pain with as little damage as possible, to help them herd the Scamps and Clannfears into battle. But they had thick skin.

With a huge crack, the demonic whip licked the back of the Argonian. The sound was not of a normal whip, but was almost like a scream as it flew through the air. The Argonian roared loudly in pain and shook violently in his stocks. Eloe began to weep. The Nord then turned to her and smiled.

The whip screamed.

A line of fire flew from Eloe's shoulder down her back and to the bottom of her thigh. Small droplets of blood seeped over her skin, and they burned. She cried aloud as all her veins and arteries caught aflame for a few moments. She then shook violently as the pain subsided.

"One" The Nord snarled. "You will receive your second lash tomorrow, your third the day after, and so on until your debt is paid. Enjoy the next fifty days..."

She was released from the stocks and shoved back in her cell, her body, her pride and dignity damaged. But one thing within her was utterly destroyed: her love for the Mythic Dawn.

"How can they do this to me?" she wept to herself.

****

Calvus sat on one of the wooden benches in the Chapel. Aranwen sat next to him, her head leaning on his shoulder. Andre was busy tending to the Orc that had been with them, as he had been badly wounded in the rush to the Chapel.

"Four..." Calvus said.

"What Calvus?" Aranwen said sleepily.

"There were fifteen of us in that Guild Hall. There are now four of us."

"There was nothing you could do Calvus..." Aranwen said comfortingly.

Calvus suddenly stood up, making Aranwen jump.

"Half of them were green! The others were seasoned, veterans, but they still died! Why did I survive and they die, why?"

Aranwen said nothing, but stood up and put her arms around him. Calvus buried his face into her shoulder, tears falling from his eyes.

"I once saw you kill a dozen Daedra, on top of that Ayleid Ruin, remember?" she whispered to him. "You survived because of your skill with a blade Calvus. The Gods are not punishing you."

"I know I know I just...wish I could have saved more..." he whispered back.

"You saved me. And Andre; and that Orc owe their lives to you."

"I know but...that Orc may not last much longer..." Calvus said.

He looked over to where he was sprawled upon a bedroll. His bare green muscular chest was visible, his dented and pierced cuirass to one side. One of his large protruding teeth had cracked, and there was blood trickling from his mouth.

"What's his name?" Aranwen asked.

"I can't remember. He only signed up yesterday..." Calvus said solemnly.

Andre had a cloth to the Orcs mouth, and was applying herbs to the bleeding parts of his body. He looked back at Calvus, and Calvus knew what his look meant. It was still touch and go.

"Damn..." he muttered.

It had been a good few hours since he and Martin had closed the doors of the Chapel. They had heard the occasional scratch of a claw against the door, and some scrabbling, but no outright attack. The few guards with them had been trying to calm the surviving civilians down ever since, and Brother Martin and other Chapel staff had been tending to the wounded.

"Can we get out of here?" Aranwen asked him.

"I doubt it." He replied with pessimism, "We are too few to escape now, half of us are wounded. We can only hope of rescue from outside...which I can't see happening."

Aranwen then grasped his face with both hands and turned it to look at her.

"Did you see how much smoke there was? That could have been seen in Anvil easily! And there are always Legion on the roads! We will be rescued!" she said fiercely.

Calvus then laughed and kissed her.

"I now know why I love you. You always bring out the optimist in me!" he said with a smile.

She smiled and they kissed again.

****

They were only a few miles from Kvatch when they saw the smoke. Dawn had come and gone, and the sun was still in the east.

"That's not good..." Marsus observed.

The pair then sped to a gallop, the long grasses of the plains brushing past the flanks of their horses. After a few minutes of fast riding, dark shapes on the horizon at the foot of the large hill Kvatch was built on were revealed to be tents, hastily erected, with many folk of many races sitting, standing or working. But even at that distance Marsus could sense the fear. Their horses could smell it, and became nervous. As the tents got closer and closer, Renault suggested they dismount. For once Marsus agreed with her, and as they led their horses to the camp, they could see close up the bedraggled civilians, frightened children and tired guards and men at arms.

"What happened?" Marsus asked a passing stranger.

"Daedra..." the Breton woman mumbled, before she walked quickly away.

Renault had approached an Imperial town guard, and was questioning him. By the time Marsus approached, she had finished with him.

"Martin isn't here. He is either dead or still in the city, trapped somewhere. Some people said they saw him making for the Chapel, but no one is certain." She said with dead seriousness.

Marsus sighed and looked around him, then up at the hill.

"I guess we should go and find him then, shouldn't we?" he said looking back at Renault.

They left their horses with the guards and started to climb the steep and winding road up to Kvatch's main gate, but as they climbed the bright morning sky slowly turned from a pleasant blue to an evil red. A fork of white lightning cracked above them, and they slowly became aware of a sound emerging from the silence, like a faint soundscape of screams.

"What sorcery is this?" Marsus said aloud.

"It must have something to do with the Daedra!" Renault shouted above the growing noise.

Another fork of lightning struck a rock near them, which resulted in an explosion that sent shards of it flying. Marsus and Renault ducked down, and Marsus heard small chips of stone going '_ping!_' off Renault's armour. They picked themselves up again, and started running as more lightning snaked around them. As they reached the top of the path, they saw it.

The Oblivion Gate barred the way into the city; its fiery portal flickered around a ring of brimstone, and around it large black spikes tipped with crimson had grown, as if there was some vast hideous creature beneath the ground trying to get out. A strange red grass grew around it, and it gave off a sharp humming noise that invaded the ears. In front of the gate were two wooden barricades, manned by three men. One was a High Elf, who held a loaded silver bow, pointed at the gate. The others were Imperials, one was without a Helm and instead had a strip of black cloth tied over his brow, but they both carried swords and iron studded shields, with the device of the Wolf's head upon them. They were all dressed in the regalia of the town guard, and Marsus could tell that they had been fighting for hours. Their limbs were sagging and their eyes were empty of hope, they had accepted that death would come for them soon.

Just then a Dremora and two Scamps appeared through the gate with a large hiss like sound. The High Elf let loose his arrow, and it struck one of the Scamps in the thigh, but did not deter it. The other guards drew their swords and charged. Without a thought Marsus did the same. His shortsword cleaved the head of one Scamp in two, while the guards hacked the other to pieces. Marsus heard a hoarse roar from behind him; the Dremora had its mace out and ready to strike. Marsus parried the blow, but it was so powerful that his shortsword snapped in two. The Dremora staggered back, but swiftly recovered and charged again, but before it could reach him Renault was there, her sword through its chest. It gave a choked scream and fell when Renault withdrew her sword from its body.

"Thanks," Marsus said.

"Do you mean that?" Renault replied with suspicion.

"Of course, he could have killed me!"

Renault wasn't sure whether he was being sarcastic or not, but before she could reply the guardsman with the headband strode up to them.

"I was going to say: 'Get back to the camp civilians', but it is obvious that you aren't. You are a Blade obviously," he said looking at Renault. "And what are you, a mercenary?" he asked Marsus.

"You could say that. We're looking for Brother Martin of the Chapel, we heard from people in the camp that he was still in the city..." Marsus replied.

"And what would you be wanting with him?" the guard said cautiously.

"He is in danger, we need to find him!" Renault said, and too late realised the stupidity of her statement.

"Danger," The guard said. "My _whole_ City is in flames and you say he is in danger?" he said on the verge of shouting.

However the guard then sighed and placed his sword back in its sheath.

"Forgive me, but I and my Guards have been fighting all night and are weary. I am Savlian Matius, Captain of the Guard. Or what's left of it. I have two good men here, and half a dozen back with the civilians. I sent nine men into that hell-spawned gate, but none have come out.

"You sent men into that thing?"Marsus exclaimed. "Why?"

"To try and close it! It's blocking the way into the city, and there are still people in there!" Savlian said pointing at the gate. "There must be a way! They managed to close the others after the city fell; it is just that _one damn gate_ that is stopping me from reclaiming my home!"

Savlian slumped down on a rock and put his head in a mailed hand, evidently both rage and sorrow was ravaging through him. After a brief silence save the hissing of the gate, Renault spoke.

"What can we do to help?" she asked softly.

Savlian lowered his hand so he could look at her with his eyes.

"What did you say?" he said in disbelief.

"Help, you obviously need it!" Renault said insistently.

Savlian laughed a half hearted laugh.

"The only thing you could possibly do would be to go into that gate and close it!" he said, intonating that this was foolishness.

"Okay! Come on Marsus lets go."

"What?" Marsus and Savlian said simultaneously.

Renault tilted her head at Marsus and spoke as if she were instructing a small child.

"Well we need to get to Martin, who is inside this city. The gate is blocking our way into the city and is causing this man grief. So if we close the gate, we and these men can go _inside _the city and do what they desire!"

Marsus gave her a disgruntled look.

"You realise that what you just said is easier said than done..." he said.

"Yet it is the only thing to do! That or go home..."

Marsus looked at her, then the Oblivion Gate. He then went over Renault's words in his head. Home sounded like a good option, easy, and the one with less pain. But then another thought entered his mind: _Calvus would go in_.

Then the Altmer guard gave a shout.

"More are coming through the gate!"

Savlian stood up and drew his sword.

"If you are serious about going, you need to go now, while we have the Daedra distracted." He said.

Renault looked at Marsus for conformation. Marsus looked at her, and gave a half smile, and drew both the silver daggers from his belt.

"Let's go." He said.

Renault then drew her sword and several Daedra appeared through the gate. The Altmer's bow sang, and the other guards shouted and drew the Daedra off. Renault and Marsus ran together, their weapons held tightly in their hands; shooting past the turned backs of Scamps and Dremora, and leapt into the fiery gate. All Marsus could see were a bright orange light and a slight burning sensation on his skin, and then all turned black.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7- Tip of the Iceberg

The blackness was slowly pierced by a blurry greyness that soon engulfed Marsus' vision. Small red flickers appeared in it, and the blurriness faded, and Marsus realised he was looking at the ground of Oblivion. He was sprawled on the floor next to Renault, and slowly rose up dusting himself off. Renault groaned and lifted her head a little.

"Ow..." she said.

"You're lucky!" Marsus said cheekily.

"Why?" she whimpered.

"Usually when I have been in the company of women, when they wake up afterwards I have already gone, and taken the rest of the wine with me!"

Renault gave her trademark scowl, which made Marsus laugh. He offered his hand to her and helped her up.

"Remind me not to travel between the fabric of worlds again!" he remarked.

"Enough with the jokes!" Renault snapped "We have a job to do!"

"Alright mum..." Marsus said quietly.

Renault would have scolded Marsus some more, but her imminent eruption was stemmed by a shout in the distance.

"_HELP!_"

"Somebody's life at stake far more important that annoying me!" Marsus said quickly.

Renault nodded and scooped up her sword, Marsus quickly grabbed his silver daggers, and they ran in the direction of the voice. They ran over a small hill of hard brimstone and saw a huge gate of black iron towering above them. The gate opened up onto a huge bridge of stone, guarded by small black towers, covered in lethal jagged spikes. At the other end of the bridge was another gate, and beyond that, a huge black tower, jagged as if it had been a bolt of lightning that had frozen in time. At the top of the tower was a small slit of a window, from which was an orange glow. Despite this hellish view, Marsus and Renault were concentrating on the one in front of the nearest gate, a man wearing the Kvatch guard uniform was in battle with two Scamps, A Dremora and another Scamp lay dead on the ground around him. Without stopping to think Marsus charged forward, driving both of his knives into the back of one of the Scamps' necks. The other lost its head to Renault's blade. The man looked at Renault and Marsus with relief, and then bewilderment.

"Thank the Nine, I never thought I'd see another friendly face..." he said.

"You're lucky then, you've got two." Marsus replied. "What happened?"

"The Captain sent us in here to close the gate; Menien thought he knew how to do it. We went onto the bridge yonder, but the gates closed, and I was left outside. They got trapped and slaughtered, and they dragged Menien off to the tower. They didn't find me, until a minute ago, and then you turned up. Tell me, is the Captain okay?"

"The Captain is fine, he sent us in here. The barricades have held." Renault said.

"Thank the Nine for that! I had seen at least a dozen Daedra go through the portal; I thought for sure they had died! This is a relief, but I know not what to do now..."

"Where is this man who knows how to close the gate?" Marsus intervened, a serious tone evident in his voice.

"They took him to the big tower, over there" the man said pointing towards the north. "His name is Menien; he knows how to close the gate. At least he thinks he does..."

"Right, we need to find him." Renault said assertively.

"What's your name friend?" Marsus asked.

"Ilend Vonis, my sword is yours friend."

"Come with us and help find your companion, we need all the men we can get to close this thing!" Marsus said.

Renault coughed.

"And women." He added quickly.

****

The landscape was as barren and hellish as had been described in all the books Marsus had read. Lakes of lava, hills of ash and brimstone, veins of blood pumping through the rock and springing up into bloodgrass, tall jagged black towers, from which rotten corpses were hung, some were aflame, cursed to burn forever. Other corpses lay charred and burned, and bodies of other unfortunate victims were seen occasionally. Thunder and lightning was always present in the sky, but no rain. Oblivion was dry as the deserts of Elsweyr. The mouths of the party soon became parched.

They followed a path that ran next to a slow river of lava, which sporadically bubbled and leapt into the air, sending ash raining down on them. On the other side was a cliff face that was impassable, and bristling with razor sharp stones. As they were about to cross a bridge crowned with iron spikes over the river, a rockslide rumbled down in front of them, and careered into the lava river. Quickly the three found cover in the adjacent cliff, using its deformed outstretches of rock as shelter from the lethal rain. When it stopped they crawled back out in silence, and continued along the path. They had to shuffle round boulders that had blocked their path over the bridge. The delay had cost them precious time.

"Let us just think ourselves lucky we haven't found battle." Marsus murmured to himself.

At that moment they saw shapes blacked out against the red sky on the next hill.

"Well done!" Renault said sarcastically, "Speak of the Daedra and they shall come!"

She drew her blade, as did Ilend, a bit apprehensively. Marsus slid both his silver daggers out of their sheaths and twirled them around his wrists, so their hilts felt good and strong in his hand. The three crept along the path, but they did not take into account the fact that the terrain was against them. A large vine on the adjacent cliff suddenly snaked out and wrapped itself around Ilend's ankle, the resulting cry and clang of steel on the ground alerted the Daedra to their presence. Suddenly another vine reached out and wrapped itself around Renault's sword arm, jerking her against the wall. Marsus leapt back in surprise, just out of the reach of a third vine that tried to grab him.

"Help me!" Ilend cried.

"Fool! Fight the Daedra!" Renault shouted over him.

Marsus looked over to the oncoming Daedra, there were two Dremora, and one had a huge Claymore, the other a decrepit mace and shield. There were two Scamps with them, following behind them like lapdogs. Marsus ran over to the vines, but his silver daggers could not cut them, and he had to leap out of the way of the vine again. Renault and Ilend struggled against the vines, but to no avail. As the Daedra got closer Marsus turned and knew he had to fight. A fireball flew past him, he did not flinch. The first Dremora got close enough so that Marsus could see the red of its eyes; Marsus took a deep breath and leapt.

****

Métzzt saw the mortal jump at him, which was rather odd. Usually they cowered and cried for mercy before he butchered them, not leapt into combat. As this thought crossed his mind, he felt something dig into his chest. It was one of the mortal's weapons that he must have thrown, yet Métzzt could not fathom why. The next thing he felt was the impact of a thirteen stone man flying into him, which didn't hurt but made him fall to the ground in surprise. The mortal was on top of him, but Métzzt was quick enough to scratch the mortals face with a free hand, the mortal cried aloud and leapt off of him. At that moment the pathetic Churl and his pets turned up. One of the Scamps tried to claw the mortal, but it suffered several stabbings from the mortal's small weapon and collapsed into a heap. 'Pithy things.' Métzzt thought as he got himself to his feet and plucked the small weapon from his breastplate. He cast it aside and readied his claymore.

The Churl had swung at the mortal, but missed clumsily. It tried again, and the blow would have struck home if it were for not the mortal dodging backwards like a coward. But he leapt back into the reach of the Harrada root. The root swung out at him, but the mortal must have had some sixth sense, for he ducked and the root instead wrapped around the neck of the Churl. Its head twisted round in a rather amusing way, and the body fell to the floor. Métzzt spat, that lowly minion did not deserve to even hold the rank of Churl, not that he did any more. As the second Scamp fired another fireball at the mortal, Métzzt roared and charged.

****

Marsus saw the fireball flying at him, and dodged aside. One hit from one of those would be fatal as he no longer possessed his cuirass. The other Dremora charged at him again, its claymore rose in the middle of an arc. Instead of dodging back, Marsus leapt forward, and interrupted the swing of the sword by grabbing the Dremora's wrists. The Dremora was far stronger than him however, and wrestled the claymore out of Marsus' grasp. But that did not matter, for Marsus was exactly where he wanted to be. He head butted the Dremora twice in the nose, forcing it to stagger back, then before the Dremora could raise its heavy claymore to parry a blow; Marsus ran into it and drove his silver knife into the Daedra's neck. He withdrew the blade and as the dying creature swayed, Marsus slit its throat with a powerful stroke, and the Daedra spun round and collapsed onto the floor.

Marsus paused, and had the feeling that he had forgotten something. But by then it was too late. The Scamp had leapt on to his back and drove its claw into his shoulder. Marsus cried aloud and arched his back with pain, which made the Scamp loose its balance on him and tumble off. Marsus turned and with adrenaline pumping through his body and veins, struck powerfully at the Scamp's leg as it tried to get up, then with one forceful stomp, crushed its head with his boot. He knelt in the dust, panting. His shoulder burned with a coarse fire, which felt like it had been amplified by the fires in Oblivion. He was deaf to the cries of his companions; all that mattered was the pain he was feeling. He laid his hand onto his shoulder, and cast a small restoration spell onto it. The magika felt soothing and sleek, like water poured onto a rough stone, cleansing it of dirt and pain. The wound closed a little, and a large scab formed over it. That was bearable at least. He felt his face at the blood that seeped from the claw marks on his face. He cast another minor restorative spell on his face, and the wound faded to four lines that graced his cheek. Sound seemed to finally reach his ears again, and he heard the shouts of Ilend and Renault.

"Marsus are you okay? Can you walk?!" Renault shouted at him.

"Yes I'm alright!" Marsus snapped back, feeling like he was being patronised. "How am I going to get you two free?"

"Try the Dremora's sword over there." Ilend suggested.

Marsus made his way over to it, and tried to pick it up. It was far heavier than he thought it would be, defiantly heavier than any claymore he had lifted before. Holding hilt and blade carefully with both hands, he struggled over to the cliff face. The vine swung out at him again, but Marsus quickly swung the heavy blade at it, and sliced it clean in half. The root then went limp, though the severed half flipped around on the ground for a few seconds like a fish out of water, before wrapping itself in comfort round the face of the dead Churl on the floor and lay still.

Marsus then used the blade to saw through the vines holding Renault and Ilend prisoner; those vines also went limp, leaving their former prisoners unharmed. Marsus then dropped the heavy sword, and nursed his aching muscles.

"Thank you Marsus..." Renault said with a relieved sigh.

"You fought well friend!" observed Ilend as he nudged one of the Scamps bodies with his foot.

"How is your wound?" Renault said with concern.

"Oh, it'll pass. I think it'll be fine." Marsus said dismissively.

Renault placed an armoured hand on his shoulder and applied another healing spell to the wound. Whereas before the sensation felt like water this time the spell felt like honey over a bitter tongue. Marsus sighed in bliss, and felt the wound close completely.

"That better?" Renault asked.

Marsus could only nod in reply.

"Okay then..." she said giving him a strange look.

"I'm sorry but that felt _really_ nice..." Marsus said happily.

"Don't get used to it!" Renault snapped back.

"What? I didn't mean anything sexual at all!"

"Yeah right, don't play innocent with me!"

Marsus decided to shut up at that point, his victory and the healing of his wound had lifted his spirits in this hellish place, and he wished it to stay like that for as long as possible. He picked up his other knife discarded on the ground, and placed them back in his belt. They continued on, over another small hill, then down a narrow path that was flanked by two cliffs of stone. Marsus could have sworn that he could see faces peering at him, but when he turned and looked closely, they were just shapes in the stone. After a few minutes of this discomfort and feeling of claustrophobia, the path opened out onto a much larger road. They had come out onto the other side of the bridge; there was another huge gate on this side. From this angle Marsus could see bodies laid out on the bridge. Just to the side of the gate was a small tower, barely higher than the gate itself.

"I would assume that's a gatehouse..." Renault observed.

"Only one way to find out." Marsus said grimly.

As they approached the tower the thought 'Is this a good idea?' simultaneously popped into their heads. The stone looked as if it were made of shining black granite, enlaced with crude symbols and scriptures. The arched door was a slab of stone, with a glowing symbol upon it. Marsus recognised it as the Dwemer rune for Oblivion, carved into the door out of a burning red crystal that seemed to resonate with the feeling of danger. Curiosity came over Marsus, so he pushed against the door.

It was heavy, but slowly moved backwards, then sunk into the ground at a slow speed. When it finally fitted into the floor Marsus cautiously stepped inside. The tower was dimly lit; the only light seemed to be a red glow from a window in the ceiling, and a few torches around the walls. A stone ramp ran around the inside the tower, with no railing or steps. In the middle was some sort of mechanism, it looked as if it were a platform that could be raised but reminded Marsus of some sort of unpleasant object of torture. In the platform there were holes, protruding through them were several large spikes. The platform was repeatedly rising and falling; clanking against a stuck gear, meaning it was useless.

"I'll take the ramp," Marsus said, "You stay here and keep guard; I don't want anything creeping up behind me."

Before Renault could protest he ran up the ramp, following its curve up and around the tower. He reached another level, which was empty save for a red basket like thing in the centre. Marsus approached it cautiously. He then realised it was then pulsating; three claw like legs supported a bag that looked as if it were made of flesh. Marsus looked inside, and saw something folded up in the bottom, he placed his hand inside (which in hindsight wasn't the safest thing to do) and pulled it out. It was a battered leather cuirass, and with it was a silver ring. Marsus put the ring on his finger, and looked at the cuirass. He decided it was better than nothing, and strapped it on over his dirty and ash stained shirt. He then ascended the ramp to the next floor, where he saw something that took him by surprise.

There was a Dremora, with his back to Marsus, who appeared to be inspecting some sort of large gear mechanism, connected to a lever on the wall nearby. The Daedra was tapping the gears with a bone, using it like a hammer. Marsus watched this strange scene for a few seconds, before realising that he needed to kill this creature. He pulled the knives from his belt, and crept behind the Dremora. He appeared to be swearing in his own horrible hissing language, and finally struck the gears with a great blow, and they rattled into life. The Dremora turned and surprise was in his eyes when Marsus' daggers sliced into his jugular. As the body swayed and fell to the ground, Marsus slid his daggers back into their sheath and looked at the lever on the wall. He placed his hands upon it; it seemed slightly sticky, as though it were made of dried blood. He pulled it down, and from outside heard a huge rumble as the gates swung slowly open.

****

Renault jumped at the noise of what sounded like metal grinding on stone and ran outside with her sword in hand. She felt rather silly when she saw the gates yawning open, and sheathed her sword. Ilend had ran after her, then stopped in shock. The gates slowly unveiled a bloody scene on the bridge, the bodies of at least half a dozen Kvatch guardsmen lay on stone stained sickly red by blood. Ilend sank to his knees.

"I never saw them...I only...heard them..." he stuttered, "Heard them die..."

He then leapt up again and ran onto the bridge.

"No!" Renault cried, but it was too late.

She had no choice but to run after him. Ilend was checking the pulses of each corpse, even those soaked in a pool of their own blood.

"Ilend...they are all dead." Renault said sadly, trying to talk sense into him.

"They can't be! They can't be! Someone must survive!" Ilend said desperately.

"You're overcome with survivor's guilt!" Renault shouted, "We need to get out of here!"

The gates had fully opened by this time; Renault's eyes flitted from Ilend to the gates, fearing that something may come for them. And something did. Renault gasped as two large lizard-like creatures approached from either end of the bridge, cutting them off. Renault recognised them as Daedroth, one of the most fearsome creatures from the hordes of Oblivion. Their scales were as good as any steel plate, their teeth as sharp as a sword and they could throw fireballs to the equal of any mage. And there were two of them. Renault drew her sword and held it in front of her, arms shaking in fear.

"So this is how it ends" she whispered to herself, "Dying in Oblivion..."

She raised her sword and charged.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8- The Blood Feast

"_The fire, the pits of fire, from these spawn the Demons, the Daedra, and the Death of all things good in this world. The sky will burn, the cities will fall, forests set aflame, lakes boil, hills brought down, ash will fall from the sky like snow and he will walk upon the broken world and laugh. Umaril was nothing, an ancient being with a vendetta, only half Daedric. What comes into this world now is far worse than him. And you must play a part in stopping it..."_

"These thoughts are not my own."

"_Nay, they are not. Call this a vision if you will, a message, a warning. Whatever you consider this to be, heed it, for it is important. We have set events in place for the heroes to make their stand, but every hero needs warriors. And you fought beside him before." _

"He no longer wished to be him. It was a persona, a character, nothing more. And who is 'we'?"

"_Surely you know? Who else could it be?" _

"No. It can't. Not like this! I must be going mad."

"_Could it not be said that all those who believe in us are mad?" _

"Some Daedra worshippers and renegades would say so... but men before have said to heard you and have done terrible things in your name."

"_We know. We did not wish that." _

"I know. That is why you created them, but they were misused by some."

"_We did what we could. And in the end they proved useful. They achieved what they were made for." _

"Then what do you wish me to do? Seek him out?"

"_Nay, you need not. His conscience will bring him back, but all we need you to do is be ready for his return. And be ready for what is to come. Awake." _

Sir Thredret awoke suddenly, sitting up in his bed. The conversation he had just had with...what he thought he had spoken to was still vivid in his head, words and images flashing into his mind, of a city burning and a red diamond engulfed in flame. He looked around the walls of the Priory of the Nine, the rest of his companions were asleep. The new recruits were on guard duty, meaning the original Knights could get some rest. It had been five years after all, the original eight couldn't do everything. Thredret turned over and closed his eyes, and decided that it was best to discuss his 'vision' in the morning.

****

The Daedroth in front of Renault roared, and it was so powerfully terrifying that she stopped in her tracks and retreated slowly back. The Daedroth slowly paced to and fro, stalking his prey. At the sight of the other advancing Daedroth, Ilend had regained some of his sense and now stood back to back with Renault, sword drawn. Both Daedra stood a fair few feet away, eyeing their prey in the centre of the bridge and salivating at the thought of raw flesh. The Daedroth on Ilend's side of the bridge took one step forward, to which Ilend gave a small cry and instinctively leapt back, knocking Renault forward.

"Don't be a fool! Don't be scared!" Renault said feeling like the biggest hypocrite alive.

"Does it matter? We're dead meat!" Ilend said with despair.

The Daedroth on Renault's side gave a guttural roar, and bent down to charge at the pair, when a shout leapt up from the gatehouse. Marsus ran straight from the door of the tower, up the back of the beast and plunged both of his daggers into its skull. The Daedroth roared and violently shook its head around in pain, but Marsus still persisted, driving them deeper and deeper. Its eyes eventually rolled back into its head and it toppled over, throwing Marsus aside.

"Behind you!" he cried.

Renault turned and saw the other Daedroth was charging towards her, trampling the corpses on the bridge and sending up spewing puddles of blood. She and Ilend quickly leapt out the way; the Daedroth passed between them and skidded to a halt near the end of the bridge. It growled menacingly, turned about, roared and started trampling towards Renault. It swung a claw at her, but Renault sidestepped and aimed a blow at the creatures arm, but it deflected harmlessly off the steel-like scales. It swung again, but Renault could not move as quickly, and the blow caught her side, sending her flying across the bridge. She cried aloud in pain and stayed on the floor, unable to move.

The Daedroth then turned towards Ilend, lumbered forward and raised a claw. Ilend blocked the blow at the cost of his shield; it shattered at the force of the strike. Ilend stumbled to the floor, but a random swing of his sword caused an unintended gash in the creature's belly, from which black blood seeped. The Daedroth growled with pain, and raised its claw for another blow. Renault had been watching the scene with horror, unable to intervene. But the blow never came.

A silver dagger flew hilt first into the Daedroth's eye, making it coil back from the blow. From ground level, Renault saw a Marsus sprint towards the creature and grasping his silver dagger with both hands, ducking a clumsy blind blow, and driving it firmly into the creatures gut and hacking at it viciously, like an aggressive artist covering a canvas with black paint. The Daedroth gurgled, swayed, and then toppled off the bridge into the searing lava below.

Marsus helped Ilend back up then knelt next to Renault.

"Are you okay?" he said, his hands running over the dent in her armour.

"I'm alright...I think..." she replied.

Renault had never seen Marsus like this. The Marsus that she knew before was sarcastic, a joker, a moaner and pain in the neck. But battle had changed him. His face was grim, his voice serious, his eyes less shallow with deeper meaning. He put his arms around Renault, and helped her to her feet. She leant on him for a while, but was soon able to stand by herself.

"It's just a bruise, I'll be fine." She reassured him.

"Good, I'd hate for something to happen to you." Marsus said with a half smile. "Ilend, you don't mind if I take some of your fallen comrades' weapons? I could do with a long blade."

"Take what you will, they need it no longer." Ilend replied solemnly, picking up a battered shield to replace his.

Marsus took an iron longsword that had miraculously survived the Daedroth's wrath, and found his other dagger.

"Onwards and upwards!" he said gesturing towards the tower.

****

Compared to their previous trek through Oblivion, this journey was easy. They followed a large winding path, flanked by two cliffs of rock rising into the sulphuric sky. Marsus watched closely for an ambush, but none came.

"Looks like they threw their best at us on the bridge..." Ilend suggested.

"Don't hold your breath." Marsus cautioned, his hand hovering over his sword hilt.

The gross bulk of the tower loomed up closer and closer, until the enclosed path opened up into a small space in front of the entrance to the tower. It seemed to Marsus that this small patch of rock, cornered by four stone obelisks carved with runes, was some kind of courtyard for the Daedra, if they indeed had such civilised methods of military organisation. Then he looked up, and saw the tower in a different light.

Before, it had seemed like a cloaked figure in the distance, fear invoking, but not a direct threat. Now it seemed fearsome indeed. White Gold Tower was at least twice the size of this thing, but this tower had more presence. If one jumped from the top, they would not hit the ground; they would first be impaled on one of many spikes that adorned the tower, as though it were some huge magnet that only attracted bitter and vile shards of black metal. A thin bridge crossed the gap between this tower and another; similar to the gatehouse Marsus had been in previously, but the mere sight of the bridge made Marsus feel sick, as though the smaller tower was some evil child, attached by a corrupted umbilical chord to its demon spawned mother. Obviously his companions were feeling the same, Renault had her mouth open and Ilend had gone pale.

"Lets get inside; at least we don't have to look at it that way." Marsus said, snapping out of his trance.

He quickly leapt up the steps to the great door, and slammed his shoulder against it. The heavy stone moved slowly inwards, grating against the floor with a sound akin to nails on a chalkboard. When it was wide enough so he could pass through, he slipped in, longsword drawn. Ilend and Renault quickly followed him, afraid to stay outside. But if anything, the interior of the tower was more terrifying than the outside. A fountain of lava swirled around in the centre of the room, from which a column of searing fire leapt up through the tower by magical means. Around the fountain prowled a Clannfear, its head twisted towards the intruders in curiosity, then it let out a sharp screech before charging at the three. It ended up with Marsus' blade in its throat, Renault's and Ilend's in its side.

Around the perimeter of the circular room were three doors, all identical in appearance, with the same runes scribed into them as the door to the gatehouse had been. Marsus cleaned his blade and looked upon the three doors.

"That one." he said, pointing towards the left one.

"Why?" Renault asked.

"Because it's always the left one!" was the reply.

Marsus then strode towards it, and confidently pushed the door open with his free arm. It revealed a smooth ramp of polished granite, levelling out after a short incline. The ramp climbed up along a corridor, at the end of which was a dim red light.

"Careful," Marsus warned "There may be tripwires."

Each step was cautious. The end of the corridor held no enemies lying in wait, just another door, behind which was another ramp, curving round steeply, leading to a room with three black spiked benches, placed around a small fountain spurting blood. Inside the room was a Dremora Churl, cupping the blood from the fountain with his clawed hands and drinking it from his palms. His ears twitched, and he turned his head at the intruders. His eyes widened in surprise, and he bolted from the room, up another curved ramp. Ilend was about to follow, but Marsus placed his arm on his shoulder.

"Wait." he commanded, "He has gone to get friends."

"So we are just going to stand here?" Ilend questioned.

"No," Marsus replied, "I have a better idea."

****

The Churl ran back down the ramp into the room where he had seen the intruders. He had brought a Kynmarcher, two Churl mages, and several Scamps. As they entered the room, the Scamps sniffed around, and hissed with disappointment.

The Kynmarcher looked at the Churl with disgust and spoke to him in their evil language.

"Thou fool! There are none here!"

He struck the Churl with the back of his hand, sending him reeling to the floor.

"But there were! I saw them!" The Churl hissed back, nursing the scratches in his cheek.

"Where are they then?"

Then one of the mages spoke up, and the closest translation to what he said was this:

"They've buggered off..."

****

Renault and Ilend stood panting in the bottom of the tower, recovering from their sprint.

"_Run away?_ That was your idea?" Renault said accusingly.

"It worked didn't it?" Marsus pointed out, catching his breath.

"Yes it worked! And now we are stuck here!"

"Actually, I think we might have a problem..." Ilend pointed out.

"What?" Renault said with irritation.

"Couldn't they smell us?"

The following silence amplified the sudden danger of their situation. All three companions drew their blades and turned to the door they had just run out of. They heard the trampling of Daedric boots and the padding of Scamp feet.

"Marsus, Ilend, get on either side of the door, I'll distract them!" ordered Renault.

Marsus was going to question Renault, but one look at her face warned him against it. He and Ilend crept up to either side of the door, leant back against the wall and held their blades close. A few seconds later, the stone door rumbled open, and the stench of Dremora and Scamps greeted Marsus' nostrils. A Kynmarcher walked through the door, raised its arm and fired a ball of red magika at Renault, who dived out of the way. The spell hit the pillar of fire and exploded, sending sparks all over the hall. The Kynmarcher then took his Daedric Warhammer off of his back, and swung it in a threatening arc. He ran further into the chamber, straight at Renault, who ducked the first blow, bashing his waist with her shield.

Two Churl mages stormed through the door, ripping staffs off their back and prepared to fire spells at Renault. Marsus leapt out of his hiding pace, and skewered the closest mage, whereas Ilend lopped off the others head. They turned and faced a surprised Churl and three Scamps. The Churl regained his senses first, and charged at Marsus with a raised mace. With ease Marsus parried the blow, but was unable to release his sword from the mace's grip. The Churl was grasping it with two hands, putting all his strength into the lock, but that all changed when Ilend intervened, and dodging fireballs from the Scamps he hacked off the Daedra's hands at the wrist. The mace fell onto the Churls foot, which added to the howls of pain erupting from the Churls throat.

The Kynmarcher meanwhile, didn't react to Renaults shield blow. He hadn't even stumbled back, just looked at Renault with evil intent, and struck her head with the handle of his warhammer, sending her sprawling onto the floor, her sword flying from her grasp. For Renault everything went black. The Kynmarcher readied his Warhammer for the killing blow, but the Scamps volley of fireballs crashed into him. Any other creature would have crumbled to ash, but the Kynmarcher's Daedric armour prevented that. Nevertheless, it was extremely painful. The Kynmarcher was temporarily engulfed in flames, and when it subsided his armour was burnt and blackened, he had dropped his Warhammer to the floor from the pain.

The howling Churl was stumbling around, black blood dripping from his amputated wrists. Taking the initiative, Marsus shoved the Daedra into the three Scamps, knocking one over and making the other two Scamps jump aside. Ilend leapt into the fray, striking one Scamp across the chest and letting his sword bite at the others neck. Marsus turned and saw Renault unconscious, the Kynmarcher picking up his Warhammer again. With a shout Marsus ran at him, his sword poised to run the Daedra through the back. But the Kynmarcher turned and deflected the blow with the handle of his weapon, piercing Marsus with burning crimson eyes. His armour was scorched black, only the deepest red runes were visible beneath the ash. The Daedra's blackened face was dull against the red eyes, like two red stars burning alone in a pitch black sky. Ilend meanwhile, executed the Churl and Scamp with one stab of his sword, his blade puncturing both Daedra.

The Kynmarcher knocked Marsus' blade aside with the butt of the Warhammer, then went to impale him with its spike, but Marsus dodged back, the spikes tip just scraping his leather cuirass. Marsus backed away cautiously, and the two foes circled each other, their weapons held in tensed hands. The tension broke with a swing from the Warhammer, but Marsus dropped to the floor, his sword moved with the speed of a whip, and found a gap in the Daedra's charred armour at the leg. The Daedra cried out and fell to the floor, his Warhammer clanged on the ground beside him. Marsus rose up again and put the squirming creature out of its misery with a stab in the chest.

Marsus slumped onto the floor next to Renault, leaving his longsword stuck in his recently vanquished foe. He held his hand over her mouth, and felt that she was still breathing. He brushed his long hair from his face and started calling her name. She stirred but would not wake. Ilend came over, and knelt beside Marsus.

"She's alive...right?" he asked.

"Yeah she's alive just not...upright..." replied Marsus.

He lifted her head and removed her helmet, her red hair tumbled out, damp with sweat and grease. He called her name again, and this time she stirred.

****

The blackness was temporarily dispelled by a flash of Marsus' face, but only for a second. It seemed to Renault she was lying down in some dark place, but she couldn't remember how she got there. She then heard her name being called, and her vision blurred back into focus. When she saw Marsus' face clearly, it had felt like no time had passed at all. Her eyes widened at the thought of the Dremora that had knocked her down was still alive.

"Don't worry, I killed him." Marsus reassured her.

He could obviously tell her worry from her facial expression. Renault relaxed, and then the full impact of where she was and how tired she was hit her, which didn't help her giddiness at being knocked unconscious. She felt her head, and found a lump on the side. Her skin felt rough and strange, as though she was touching it for the first time.

"Can you walk?" Marsus asked.

"I have no idea." she replied bluntly, and winced as a sharp pain shot from her lump.

"Lie there a bit then. I think the area's safe..."Marsus said, getting up.

"I'm not going anywhere." Renault replied with utmost sarcasm.

"Obviously well enough to be sarcastic..." Marsus muttered under his breath.

After a few minutes, Renault struggled to her feet, and almost fell back down again.

"I can't fight like this..." she confessed.

Marsus sighed and plucked his sword from the Kynmarcher's corpse.

"Well we have a bit of a dilemma here, don't we?" he said as he looked up towards the top of the tower, the column of flame illuminating it in a sickly red glow.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9- When One Gate Closes...

_Authors note:_

_I would like to apologise that I have not updated for MONTHS. The reasons are numerous, exams and personal projects I have been working on for my friends, but I have not forgotten about my fan fiction. I can't promise I will update regularly, but I'll try my best. _

_Andaer _

Several hours had passed since the attack, yet it was still pitch black outside. Rain hammered against the Chapel, running down the stained glass windows. Calvus looked at the image of Dibella, depicted in blue and green glass, her face of beauty surrounded by an aura of light. Brother Martin came and stood next to Calvus, and watched the window for a few seconds. A single raindrop fell from Dibella's eye, and meandered down her robe.

"It's like the Gods are weeping..." Calvus observed.

"And so they should." Brother Martin said bitterly.

"What?" Calvus asked surprised, "Why?"

"They allowed this to happen..." Martin said, gesturing to the wounded. "No warning, no help, nothing. It's hard to keep faith when people are dying around you..."

He went to turn away, but Calvus grabbed his arm with a strong hand.

"Don't ever lose faith Brother...it helped me when I needed it most..."

"Well I think these circumstances are when we need it most; I see no help...leave me be Calvus I need to think..."

Martin escaped from Calvus' grip and disappeared though a door. Calvus sighed and slumped down on a bench. It must be at least seven in the morning, and the fact that it was still dark was unsettling. This was not natural, but there was little Calvus could currently do to amend it. He found himself reminiscing on how his friendship with Martin developed. As soon as he had been put in charge of the Kvatch Guild, he had visited the Chapel regularly every week, to show his faith in the Gods and reap the fruits of what he had saved when he donned the Crusader's armour. He had got to known Martin, and they had often sat long in the Chapel, discussing the mystical purposes of the Divines. This was rather odd for Calvus, as most of if not all his friends had been made through comradeship in battle. He was not used to talking with priests on a friendly level, especially not about the same old topics like blades, decapitation and death.

And yet now, Calvus could see a change in Martin, a bitterness that would most certainly test his faith. Calvus was sceptical about most things, but not his own faith. How could he question it when he had fought and killed in its name? As he pondered these things a loud bang against one of the Chapel doors sounded, he instinctively leapt to his feet, hand on his sword hilt.

"At least they were polite enough to knock..." he said as he drew it.

Marsus had been gone for barely ten minutes, and Ilend was already feeling vulnerable without his presence. The man had a similar attitude and resolve to Captain Matius, and a great sword hand. But there was something more to him, something sinister and unclear, like he was hiding something. He didn't seem like a righteous crusading knight, more like a hired veteran mercenary. But whatever he was, Ilend surmised, he was bloody good at it.

Renault groaned from her position on the floor.

"Where has Marsus gone?" she said with fatigue.

"He went off and left me to guard you. He said the people of Kvatch couldn't wait..." Ilend answered, feeling like he was about to provoke an explosive response.

Instead of erupting however, Renault slumped back down onto the floor and sighed.

"Idiot." she said.

The sword plunged through the Dremora's chest; black blood ran down the blade. Marsus shouldered the body off of his sword, and pushed it into an attacking Clannfear, which crumpled beneath it. Marsus turned and ducked, as a war axe swung over his head, but a swing from his blade sent the Churl's leg flying across the room, the rest of him fell to the floor. Marsus scooped up the Daedric axe, and though it was heavy, he was able to swing it in conjunction with his sword, gutting the Scamp behind him. Leaving the axe in the gory wound, Marsus turned and surveyed his destruction. Three Dremora, four scamps and one Clannfear had fallen before his might. But there was still the other Clannfear squealing beneath the body of the Churl. Marsus slit its throat with his blade, black blood splashed over his greaves.

_Make that two Clannfear, _he thought, and wiped his blade on a fallen Scamps matted fur.

He had always fought better alone. He could let a bloodlust take him over, without the burden of others to protect. He hadn't felt this much adrenaline since his fight with the Khajiit assassin at his castle back in High Rock. Or what had been his castle...

That time he was brave, being unarmed against a trained assassin. The satisfying thud of the arrow in his assailant's ribs was the peak of satisfaction. True, he had his Nord henchmen to back him up then, but they knew his fighting style, they knew when to stay back. Marsus had always wondered what had happened to them: Gunyir and Brör. Well they certainly weren't where he was currently, half way up a tower in Hell. Marsus stalked to the door, his muscles still screaming with adrenaline, and put his shoulder against it. It wouldn't move. Marsus observed a keyhole in the door, unlike all the others he had seen. He sighed, and tried the other door. 

"**OH SHIT!**"

Below him yawned the fires of Oblivion, heat rushed through the door to greet him. Directly in front of him was the bridge he had seen from outside. It was long, narrow, lined with spikes and there was at least a fifty foot drop below. In other words, it was lethal. Marsus was breathing heavily, from the fear and his recent battle. He sheathed his sword, got to his hands and knees and crawled across the bridge. He wasn't taking any chances. A hot breeze whipped at him, and the smooth surface of the bridge meant he almost toppled off twice. It felt like an age, before he reached the bridges end, and scrambled inside the lesser tower. This tower had a similar interior to the gatehouse, the same stone ramp running around the inside of the tower, and the same feeling of discomfort and fear. He went a short distance up the ramp, where he saw on the top level, a cage with a half naked man inside, and a Dremora guard, who had just spotted Marsus.

"You should not be here mortal! Your life is forfeit; your flesh is mi-"

The guard's head flew from its neck.

"They should really learn: fight first, gloat later." Marsus said with a hint of irritation.

"Over here!" the caged man cried.

"You're Menien right?" Marsus enquired, sheathing his sword and walking towards the cage.

"Aye, but you must be quick, there is little time. I know how to close this thing. At the top of the big tower, there is a magical stone that keeps the gate in place! You remove it, you close the gate!"

"I see...but there is a door I cannot get past. I didn't know they had locks in Oblivion..."

"That Dremora you just killed has the key you seek. You aren't far from the Sigil keep, you must hurry!"

"I could do with some help..."

"Leave me here, I will only slo-"

Menien never finished his sentence. The Dremora arrow piercing his throat saw to that. Marsus spun and ducked as another arrow flew over his head. But too late, the prisoner had talked. Marsus sprinted at the two Dremora archers, and leapt at them before they had a chance to notch another arrow. His impact caused one to topple off the edge of the platform, the other to stumble and roll down the ramp, ending up in a heap at the door. Marsus ran down and slit the creature's throat before it could make a move. There was a sickening sound as the other Dremora was impaled on something sharp and metallic at the bottom of the tower. After taking the key from the deceased Dremora guard's belt, Marsus looked up and saw Menien slumped in his cage, blood splattered over the metal and dripping a steady red rain of blood into the depths of the tower. He shuddered and turned his back, reflecting on how Oblivion had claimed another victim.

Ciel Woodhart was tired. After apprehending the prisoner that had just escaped from the Imperial Prison (and excused his company from the run, thank the Divines), there had been the entire calamity after the assassination of the Emperor. Security had been stepped up at the Palace, an investigation launched into the assassination, and patrols increased on every major road to each city. Ciel was part of the first patrol sent to Anvil, one of five men. The men had been drafted in from other Legions; Ciel had not fought next to any of these men at Garlas Malatar, they were raw and green, and had barely tasted blood. Save the leader of the patrol, the sergeant. He had shed blood, not at Garlas Malatar, but at countless skirmishes with outlaws, and had more experienced than the green recruits combined. But even this did not install Ciel with confidence. As the mounted party cleared a small clump of trees, they could see clearly across the plains of Kvatch County.

"Hey Sarge, what's that over there?" One of the recruits said, pointing towards the city.

The grizzled veteran turned his horse and looked at the plume of black smoke rising from Kvatch.

"It's trouble boys..." he said, "looks like we aren't going to Anvil after all..."

With a harsh shout he sped his horse along the Gold road to Kvatch, followed by the other soldiers. And all Ciel could think was: _'Here we go again...' _

Marsus carefully pushed the final door open. The corridor curved round, and opened out to a large room, with a hole in the floor. The room had similar architecture to the rest of the tower, bleak stone floors and black walls. A ramp that appeared to be made of stretched red skin pinned to the wall rose up to the next level, where the Sigil stone was suspended by unseen magic. From this distance it looked like a black lump of rock, engulfed in yellow flame. The column of fire that had been erupting from the fountain on the bottom floor was flowing into it, emitting a screaming noise that filled the room.

Marsus shivered, and drew his sword, holding it firmly in two hands. As he crept round the corner, he came face to face with a surprised Clannfear. His sword flashed upwards in a deadly uppercut, making the Clannfear fly backwards spurting blood from a deep wound. Its death cry however, alerted more Daedra to Marsus' presence. His eyes widened, and he broke into a run, skidding round to the skin like ramp and charging up it. A Dremora stood in his way, and swung a hammer at Marsus' legs. Marsus jumped, and as he travelled through the air he swung at the Dremora with his blade. Its head hit the ground the same time Marsus' feet did, and he continued on. A fireball exploded above him, he felt the heat on his head and neck. He then finally reached the stone, grabbed it with both hands and wrenched it from its position. The ground shook, and as Marsus clutched the Sigil stone, a bright red light covered his vision, which then grew into a clear white, before melting into blackness.

The first thing Marsus heard was the pattering of rain on his leather armour. He lifted his head, and found himself on the ash black dirt outside Kvatch's main gate, in a foetal position clutching the Sigil stone. Beside him were Renault and Ilend, unconscious. He lay there in the ash black mud, unable to find the willpower to get up.

"Captain! They are back, they've closed the gate!" he heard a voice shout.

The sound of boots came rushing towards them, and Marsus was hoisted to his feet by the guards, and dragged back behind the barricade. The Captain kept him upright, while the other guards dragged Renault and Ilend back as well.

"Was Ilend the only one left?" Savlian asked.

"Yeah..." Marsus muttered, still clutching the stone.

He dropped it on the floor; it splashed down onto the damp ground, and seemed to steam slightly in the rain.

"We should destroy that..." the Captain suggested; his hand on his sword hilt.

"I'll do it." Marsus stated, drained of energy and emotion.

He drew his longsword, and struck the stone with a great blow. It shattered, but the blow made Marsus' blade glow with bright red flames, until they died down, leaving a crimson glow on his sword.

"What did it do?" Savlian asked startled.

"I think it just gave my sword a flame enchantment..." Marsus said smirking.

The Captain then looked as if he had remembered something, a sense of urgency suddenly rose up in his voice

"We need to break into the city, this is our only chance!"

"You're right!" Marsus said, sheathing his sword.

Savlian handed him a purple flask, which Marsus drank from, and felt invigorated, his stamina returned to him. The Captain then knelt and gave some to Renault and Ilend, they awoke and stood, feeling strangely calm after their horrifying experience.

"Can you fight?" the Captain queried.

Ilend drew his sword and inspected it.

"For Kvatch sir, I can do anything." he said.

"That's the spirit!" the Captain roared with glee.

He then turned and faced the gate of Kvatch. Ilend, Renault and Marsus were behind him, as well as the remaining town guard.

"There could be anything behind that gate..." the Captain said, "But we will face it, and we will defeat it, for this is OUR city and we will give our lives for it! Forward men! FOR KVATCH!"

The men ran at the gate and threw it open, and so began the retaking of Kvatch.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10- Another Gate Opens.

The Dremora Churl that had been standing innocently behind the gate of Kvatch received a nasty splinter filled surprise as the gates flew open. It was thrown across the cobbled stones, and when it finally regained its vision it saw something unpleasant, the tip of a sword blade about to embed itself in its face. It saw no more after that.

The other Daedra that had been feasting or mutilating the bodies of the dead that lay in the yard looked up at the sight of the fury filled town guard charging into the city. Two Scamps were struck down by vengeful arrows, and unprepared Daedra were gutted with bloodstained battle seasoned blades. Marsus swung his sword in blurring arcs, cutting down Daedra on all sides, adding to the many corpses already strewn about the courtyard. The raging fires of burning buildings reflected in Savlian Matius' eyes, giving him an almost demonic appearance as he avenged his city, stroke by stroke. He led the assault, cutting a swathe through the Daedra, making straight for the Chapel doors. But as quickly as the battle began, it ended. Marsus was turning, his eyes searching for another threat, but there was none to be found. A small outnumbered force had butchered its way through at least a score of Daedra. Then again, Marsus realised he shouldn't be that surprised, these men had the wrath of the Divines behind them.

"Get in the Chapel! See if those people are still there!" Matius barked at Marsus.

Marsus was compelled to follow the Captain's orders. He walked over to the door, and bashed upon it with the hilt of his blade. He heard murmured voices inside, and the unsettling sound of steel being unsheathed. The door was thrown open, revealing a mirror. Well at least that was the impression Marsus got when he stared into the face of his brother. It was like two people from parallel words had met at this point, starting from the same place but travelling very different paths, and here was a defining moment when they met. One, the younger one wearing fine Dwarven armour, and the other one, older and dressed in cheap scraps of light armour. Both were holding drawn swords and were covered in dark blood. They stared at each other for what seemed like a decade, as bewildered thoughts passed through their minds.

"You." Calvus finally said.

"Me." Marsus agreed.

"You should be in prison."

"I'm not."

"Evidently."

Both brothers spoke in a monotone, trying to conceal any emotion whatsoever, in case one brother or the other went for their blade. Finally Marsus said:

"Are you going to let us in? I have a load of rain and blood soaked soldiers and a stroppy woman on my heels, and they want to come in."

"You are covered in Daedra blood, so I will assume you for an ally...for now" Calvus said cautiously.

He stepped back from the door and let Marsus pass.

"Come in then!" he shouted, "I can't keep this thing open all day!"

The soldiers and Renault ran into the Chapel, and Calvus slammed the door shut. Marsus looked around the sacred building, there were survivors and wounded lying on blankets. He spied a familiar face, familiar even though he had only seen it for a minute: Calvus' Elven lover. She looked up from the Orc she was tending, and her mouth opened at the sight of Marsus. She scowled at him and turned back to the wounded Orc. Marsus felt a small warm glow rise up inside him, it was sweet of her to remember him, and it was always nice to know that people hated him. It was then he spied a priest near the Chapel's alter, standing over it like a general over the map of a battle he was losing. Brother Martin turned and looked for a moment at the newcomers, but then went back to staring down at the font, obviously uncaring as to what came through the door. Marsus was about to approach him, but a gauntleted fist slammed down on his shoulder and turned him around.

"What are you doing here? Why are you looking like that at Brother Martin? How did you get out?" Calvus hissed into his brothers' face.

"I-"

"It's only been _five_ years. Are you here for revenge? Did you go through all this to get to me?"

"No I-"

"Tell me, what you are planning, I should-"

It was then Calvus' turn to get a gauntleted hand on the shoulder. He turned his head, and looked into the face of Captain Renault. At that moment, Renault was angelic to Marsus; she was saving him from all these impossible awkward questions.

"He's with me." she said.

Calvus released Marsus from his grip and turned to face Renault directly.

"My criminal brother is with the Blades. Oh how convenient! How do I know that you aren't one of his mercenaries, with armour stolen off a corpse?"

"My name is Captain Renault, personal bodyguard to Emperor Uriel Septim, at least before he was assassinated."

"_Assassinated_? WHAT?" Calvus said in disbelief.

_Of course, _Marsus thought, _they would never have received the message during the siege. _

"He was killed by unknown assailants a few days ago. He entrusted the Amulet of Kings to your brother, who delivered it to a safe place. He then came here, seeking the heir of Uriel Septim in my company. He closed the Oblivion Gate obstructing the city gates, and fought his way here. His actions alone are noble..."

By now this conversation had the attention of the entire Chapel. There were probably some Daedra pressing their pointed ears to the stone to try and find out what the hell the mortals were shouting about. Even the wounded Orc was sitting up and listening intently.

"A very fanciful tale if there ever was one!" was Calvus' mistrustful reply, "And if you judge him by his actions, he obviously hasn't told you about what he did in his past. They are far from noble, including trying to kill me!"

Calvus turned to the Captain.

"Matius, can you vouch for this man or this tall tale?"

"He closed the Gate and saved one of my men from certain doom, and he has a good sword hand. Right now, I couldn't care less if he was the damned Gray Fox!"

"It wouldn't bloody surprise me..." Calvus muttered.

"Can we save this sibling feud for another time?" Matius said exasperated, "We need to decide on a course of action!"

Calvus gave a mistrustful look towards Marsus, but then turned away with a sigh.

"Fine, as far as I'm concerned, for now he's another sword. So what do you want to do Captain? I and my remaining men are yours to command."

"We must retake the castle. It's the only way to secure the city, for all we know they could be summoning more Oblivion Gates in there. The Count must also be holding out with his men, Castle Kvatch is one of the best defended in the whole of Cyrodiil!"

"We have nowhere near enough men!" Calvus protested. "And what about the civilians and wounded, surely they need guarding?"

There was another knock on the door. It echoed around the Chapel, bringing a tense feeling to all those holed within its walls. Calvus went over to the door, and opened it slightly. He was staring into the face of an Imperial Legion soldier.

"We saw the smoke from the Gold Road, you must need our blades!" the man stated almost cheerfully.

Calvus rolled his eyes.

"Come in, wipe your feet." he sighed, "Well the Divines have it in for me don't they?"

It was decided that half of the remaining town guards would escort the civilians back to the camp, while the other half, the Legion and any volunteers went to take the castle. The party willing to take the castle consisted of Matius, Ilend, Renault, Marsus, Calvus, Aranwen and the soldiers. Andre and Brother Martin stayed to tend to the wounded. It was going to be a long battle, and a long night.

Ciel Woodhart was slightly confused. After his commanding officer had pledged his service to the Captain of the Kvatch Guard and plans had been made, nothing much had happened. The civilians had all been escorted to safety, but the strike force that was meant to attack the castle wasn't doing much. Two groups had formed, one of Marsus and Renault, the other being Calvus and Aranwen. They were talking in stressed yet hushed voices, not wanting to reveal their emotions to the other group.

"_I knew nothing of your past Marsus, but attempting to __kill__ your brother?"_

"_I'm a changed man! I swear!"_

While at the other end of the Chapel:

"_What is __he__ doing here Calvus?"_

"_I don't know, but he is here to help."_

"_How can you trust him!"_

The Captain had obviously had enough of this, so decided to rally the troops.

"OKAY THEN!" he roared, "Time to attack the castle! Form up! COME ON FORM UP! We have little time!"

Matius' overbearingly harsh yet powerful shout had roused the whispering groups out of their private arguments, and they somewhat sheepishly shuffled over to the Chapel doors. They were facing not the door they had come in from, but the one leading out to the plaza in front of the castle's main gate.

"There could be anything out there men. Steel yourselves!" Matius warned gruffly as he drew his sword.

Ciel placed his helm upon his head, and readied his silver blade and spiked shield. His comrades in arms did the same, and his sergeant whispered to them:

"Good luck lads, give 'em hell!"

Matius kicked the door open and a sharp volley of rain blew into the Chapel. Matius charged out, followed by his band of various fighting men. The statue of Antus Pinder towered above them; his stony features were grim in the darkness, raindrops bled down the length of his sword. The group spread around the plaza, looking for foes. They only found one, a rather unfortunate solitary Scamp. It looked at the score of men around it and after calculating the odds, realised it was outnumbered twenty to one. It made to commit suicide in the moat, but it was killed by a swift arrow. No other enemies were seen. Suddenly a fireball was blasted from the castle walls, and hit the statue of Antus Pinder. The statue that had heroically survived the initial siege was now spoilt; the sword had melted into a pile of blackened rock at the statues grey feet.

The five or so men possessing bows returned fire, but they could barely see their target in the darkness and pounding rain. Matius ran to the main gate, stood at the portcullis looking slightly perplexed and finally retreated back when a Dremora arrow found its way into his shield.

"Fall back to the Chapel!" he ordered.

Arcing arrows started falling around them, and those who had shields held them above their heads as the arrows fell through the air. Matius ushered the soldiers and volunteers back into the Chapel, then quickly slammed the heavy door. The definitive sound echoed around the Chapel, until it was submerged into the screaming silence of the failed sortie.

"Do not despair, we have not failed yet." Matius said, trying to keep himself under control, "The Daedra have the walls, and they have closed the gate on us. We cannot get in. We must not falter though, for there is another way in. A guard house in the north wall contains a secret passage that will lead directly to the gatehouse. I need three volunteers to go through it."

The female Blade stepped forward.

"I will go, and I wish to take this man as well." she said gesturing towards the man known as 'Calvus'.

"Don't I have a say in thi-" Calvus started.

"Excellent!" Matius interrupted, "Who else?"

His eyes scanned the assembled men. They eventually fell on Ciel Woodhart.

"You can accompany them soldier!"

_So much for volunteering, _Ciel thought, but nevertheless barked a 'Yessir!' at the Captain.

"Berich Inian will go with you; he holds the key to the passage. Good luck!"

A helmetless Imperial in a Kvatch uniform walked up to the three volunteers, and nodded to them.

"Follow me; we'll have to go through the undercroft, then through the streets. Come on!"

He disappeared through the door to the undercroft, the Blade and Calvus followed them, and Ciel had no choice but to follow then down into the gloom.

The whip screamed.

Eloe felt the fire burn through her blood; it was as though it had turned to lava. The wound from this whip was directly over her last scar, making it hurt twofold. Tears streamed from her eyes, the whip had only graced her skin for a second, but it was like she was being subjected to torture from Dagon himself. She shook violently in her stocks; she had bitten her lip so hard that it was bleeding heavily.

"Two." the Nord said.

She closed her eyes as she felt her body being roughly dragged and thrown back into her cell. There were scratches all over her body. She crouched in an almost foetal position, if she put any pressure on the scars, they would sting for hours. She looked up from the cold floor to the candle that lit her cell. It was spluttering, and it stank. A thin stream of black smoke was rising to the top of the cell, blackening the rocky wall. An hour passed. She sat up carefully, and looked towards the door. Footsteps were approaching it. It opened, and there stood the grizzled Nord, a malicious look of lust in his eyes.

"You know, if you do a _certain something_ for me, I might be able to see that the whip breaks tomorrow..."

Eloe retreated to the back of her cell, and gave an animalistic hiss in the Nord's direction.

"If that's how it is, I could make it worse for you!" he threatened.

Eloe did not make any visible reaction to this statement, but a heavy cold shadow of fear sunk through her body.

"Or I could just take what I want now..." the Nord, said, eyeing her bare breasts.

Eloe stood up, and shrunk into the corner. The Nord lurched up to her, and took her shoulders. Suddenly Eloe head butted the Nord in the nose and kneed him in the groin. His eyes widened and he gave a high pitched squeak as he collapsed to the floor. Eloe spat on him and made for the open door. She was in a small tunnel in the caverns; there was another cell next to her, probably containing the Argonian. She made to run for the exit, but she could see torchlight coming around the corner. She froze. One of her 'sisters' saw her, and drew her steel axe from her belt.

"Get back in that cell now, or I will kill you!" the Dunmer warned.

Eloe complied. She darted back into her small cell, but roughly shoved the Nord outside.

"Tell him if he tries again I'll do worse, no matter how many extra lashes I get!" she spat from inside the small space.

The Dunmer grunted in disgust, and dragged the Nord to his feet. She slammed and locked the cell door; the gust of air that was produced blew out the candle in the cell.

"It'll be relit tomorrow." she snarled, and then stalked away, helping the Nord along with her.

Despite her brave outburst, Eloe was now downcast and defeated as she shivered naked and alone in the dark...

The undercroft was enveloped in a dank green gloom. Statues loomed like wraiths in the shadows. The ominous pillars gave the place an uncomfortable feeling, as there could be something lurking behind them. Calvus had been in several undercrofts before, but none had been as scary and threatening as this one.

"Berich, please tell me somebody made sure this was clear..." he said, his voice quietened by the darkness.

"I don't think we did..." was the shaky reply.

A small growl from the other end of the undercroft confirmed their fears. A bright orange flash erupted, and four fireballs momentarily lit up the entire room before they were extinguished by the cold walls. The four humans covered their heads and took cover behind the pillars, with the four Scamps hissing and padding around on the other side.

"Damn Scamps!" Renault cursed.

Calvus threw a fireball around the corner of the pillar. It streamed through the air, but missed its target. Another wave was blasted at them, narrowly missing Renault's shoulder.

"Now!" Berich commanded, running out of cover towards the line of Daedra.

His sword cleaved through the first Scamp he could find, but in the darkness the others slipped away. Slowly Calvus, Renault and Ciel melted away from their pillars, conscious that their enemies could be anywhere. There was an eerie cold silence, save for slow armoured footsteps and the occasional hiss and scurry of Scamp feet. To Calvus' left a fireball suddenly erupted and hit him in the left flank, sending him to the ground. But the others converged on the source of the spell, and the Scamp was swiftly decapitated. Calvus struggled to his feet, his Dwemer armour smouldering slightly.

"I'm fine by the way..." he commented to no one in particular.

Suddenly two other fireballs shot from the other side of the undercroft, both aimed at Calvus. He dived out of the way, cursing Daedra profoundly as he crashed to the ground. Berich managed to skewer one of the Scamps, but the other got away. Silence swept through the undercroft once again.

"Sod this..." Calvus muttered as he got to his feet.

He stuck his sword out in front of him, and charged in no particular direction. The sound of his blade sliding comfortably into Scamp flesh brought a feeling of relief to those remaining. Calvus kicked the limp creature off of his blade. Berich made for the door outside, and threw it open. The decimated street lay open in front of them, rubble and burning buildings marking their way through the city. Cautiously the foursome left the safety of the Chapel, into the heat of the fantastic fires and pouring rain. Save one or two roaming lesser Daedra, they met little resistance. It seemed that most of the Daedra were now in the castle.

As the group traversed cautiously through the remains of Kvatch's arena, Berich muttered aloud:

"Gods above, look what they did to this place..."

The corpses of the arena combatants lay everywhere, torn apart by a roving Dremora war band. They had fought to the end. Ciel looked away from the bodies in disgust, but Calvus' eyes dwelled on them for a while.

Finally, they reached the guard tower, half destroyed, and the rain pouring into what was once dry shelter. Berich shoved one of them aside, revealing a circular metal trap door. He took a key from his belt and slid it into the lock.

"There!" he said as he opened it, "That's your way in. I'll go back and reinforce the Captain. Good luck!"

He then turned and ran back through the streets, rain and mud splattering off his boots. Renault was the first to descend through the tunnel, into the quiet gloom of the secret passage. Calvus and Ciel followed.

"Soldier, check the path ahead!" Renault ordered.

Ciel tried to hide his contempt at the order, but nevertheless obeyed. When he was out of earshot, Renault turned to Calvus.

"Now we can have our little chat." she stated.

"Chat? Is this the right time? Before you ask, I'm married and we have more important things to worry about, like retaking the castle!"

"What's your last name?" Renault persisted.

"I-"

"Last name!" she barked.

"Tullinus!" he almost shouted back.

"Ah...I thought so...it's a pleasure to fight at your side...Crusader..."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11- Wait...what?

"Wait...WHAT?" Calvus said, both confused and enraged by this revelation, "How do you know? I told no one!"

"Your Fighter's Guild brethren may be idiots Crusader, but the Blades aren't."

Calvus drew his sword; Renault immediately drew hers in retaliation.

"They weren't idiots..." Calvus growled, "They were good men. I lost almost a dozen in this attack, don't you **DARE** call them that!"

"The Blades knew of your identity almost immediately. All it took was a few spies, a few whispers and a bit of digging-"

"Apologise for what you said!"

"What? No!"

Calvus lunged.

The arrows and spells rained down upon the plaza, Antus Pinder now had a few more war wounds than the melted sword. Marsus crouched behind the statue, his sword sheathed, waiting. Others were positioned around the gates, firing arrows and spells, or even just hiding behind their shields, waiting for the command. The Captain took an arrow to his shield, and then dived behind the statue.

"Evening guv..." Marsus said dryly.

"What's taking them so long?" Matius despaired.

Renault parried the strike, but only just. She did a flick of the wrist that would disarm any opponent, but it didn't work on Calvus. He smiled, and attempted two more strikes. Renault dodged backwards; the pair were now duelling along the corridor. Renault had the longer blade, but Calvus possessed a lot of skill, and appeared to have no fear. He struck once, twice, thrice, Renault barely able to keep up her defence. She then saw an opening, and thrust for it, but Calvus saw it coming. He twisted to the left, Renault's katana just glancing off his armour. In the split second her hand was outstretched, he smashed the hilt of his blade upon her gauntlet, causing her to cry aloud and drop her blade. Calvus stood on the katana, and pointed his silver shortsword at Renault's throat.

"Will you apologise now?" he said smugly.

Renault gave him a look that could melt iron.

"I'm sorry." she spat through gritted teeth.

"Good!"

Calvus withdrew his blade then bounded off down the hall, trying to find the Legion soldier. Renault seethed as she picked up her sword.

"He's so much like his bloody brother!" she cursed, before following swiftly in his wake.

The portcullis rumbled open, immediately Matius leapt from his cover and bolted towards the gate, the other men at arms hot on his heels. Marsus followed behind them, the stone crenulations rushing past him as he sprinted towards the gate. Dremora arrows chinked on the cobbles around him, but as the soldiers filtered into the courtyard, the arrows thinned then stopped all together. When he finally made it there, the Kvatch Guard and the Legion had done most of the work, and Calvus and Renault were present, Renault was staring daggers at the back of Calvus' head, although he seemed to take no notice. But there was little time for rest, as Matius was ordering the force into the keep.

"Come on men, into the castle, clear the main hall!" he bellowed over the wind and rain.

With that, he kicked open the doors of the great hall, and swept inside, the others struggling to keep up. As Marsus felt the hard stone of the courtyard change into the soft carpet of the inside hall, he looked into the darkness and saw the carnage that lay before them.

The stylised furniture lay battered and broken. The stone braziers were still burning merrily, oblivious to the destruction around them. The carpets and tapestries lay torn, shredded and scorched. The throne of Kvatch was split and splintered. Silverware and bodies lay scattered around the scene, and in the darkness several Flame Atronachs smouldered.

"Oh not these bloody bastards again!" Calvus cursed.

Aranwen swiftly planted an arrow into an Atronach's forehead, but it had little effect. A wave of red fireballs flew towards them, and most of the company dived behind tables and fallen masonry, but one Kvatch soldier was struck in the face by a fireball and fell to the floor, screaming as his flesh melted off of his skin. Matius swiftly put him out of his misery.

"Now what do we do?" Marsus shouted over the sound of fireballs rushing overhead.

"Get ready to charge!" Aranwen ordered.

"What?"

Crouched behind her cover, Aranwen drew her bow to full length and fired an arrow in the air.

"Well what did that achieve?" Marsus said belittlingly.

A chandelier fell on top of one of the Atronachs.

"Now!" Aranwen shouted.

The others broke from cover and charged towards the distracted Daedra. Swords and axes sung with the flame, and the Atronachs fell before the fury of the Kvatch Guard and Legion.

"The throne room is ours!" Matius cried. "Merandil, Jesan, Marsus, and you Legion boys, go ahead and find the Count, bring him back here safe, the rest of us will hold this position. Go, now!"

The soldiers sprinted up the stairs, Marsus right behind them. Through the burnt oak door they went, into the ruined dining hall. The corpses of noblemen and women were strewn around in pools of blood, a pathetic barricade of tables and bookcases had not withstood the Daedra onslaught, and the chandelier had split the grand dining table in two, hence the scattered tableware. And of course, there was the pack of Scamps at the far end of the hall.

Fireballs struck shields and armour, but no men fell to them. Marsus leapt up onto the broken table and ran across it. He ducked out of the path of a fireball, and jumped over the chandelier as a fireball narrowly missed his groin. He landed back on the table, ran up the slope, and as he reached the table's end, he leapt into the air into the group of the Scamps. He floored two from the impact; his enchanted blade cleft the skull of another. The Town Guard and Legion clashed with the flanks of the pack, and within seconds the Scamps were decimated. Marsus shoved a limp corpse off of his blade.

"Forward!" he ordered, and crashed through the next door.

The uneasy peace of the great hall was broken by a hammering on the door.

"Open up in the name of Mehrunes Dagon!" an Elven voice on the other side of the door screamed.

As one, Calvus, Aranwen, Matius, Ilend, Renault and the other Kvatch Guard turned about and faced the door, weapons ready.

"Come in if you dare!" Matius shouted back.

There was a brief pause then one of the great oak doors was blasted inwards by a fire spell. A High Elf dressed in bloodstained and battle torn red robes marched in, half a dozen Dremora at his back.

"Trying to take the castle back _Captain_?" the Altmer jeered, "Well it's too late, the Count's already de-"

Aranwen's arrow slid quite nicely into his ribcage. He swayed for a moment, not quite giving up on life, but the Dremora behind him bashed him out of the way with his mace in order to get at Matius. The other Dremora charged at the party, and immediately both sides clashed over the Altmer's corpse. Through battle weary, the men and women of Tamriel were of greater skill than the Churls of Oblivion, and after many a clash of steel and ebony, the Dremora lay dead or ran from the castle fleeing.

"Well their counterattack failed!" Calvus observed, "We must have slain half the Daedra in the city!"

"That we probably have..." Ilend mused; cutting the throat of a Churl he suspected might be not quite dead.

"Once we have the castle, we can drive the rest out of the city. They have no way of getting back to their demon realm, they'll be stuck here!" Matius said with a hint of triumph.

"That might not necessarily be a good thing..." Renault said.

Marsus led the way down the narrow corridor towards the Count's bedchamber; his sword quickly felled two Scamps that were trampled underfoot by the men rushing behind him. There was a sharp corner, and then the door.

It had been blackened, split, and then finally levered open off the wall. Its black iron hinges dangled uselessly from the doorframe. There were the bodies of the noblemen and women, the Count's bodyguard, and in a pool of blood, with large crimson claw marks scarring his body, lay the Count. The men spread around the room, checking for any signs of life. There were none.

"We're too late..." One of the Legion lamented.

The High Elf guard bent down, and took the Count's signet ring from his finger.

"We'd better get back..." he muttered.

Slowly the force of men left the bedchamber. Marsus was the only one left in the room of bodies. He wiped his bloodied blade on the bed sheets, no one would notice if he did, and then sheathed his sword. There was an unopened bottle of vintage wine on the bed side table. Marsus uncorked it with his thumb and took a swig. There was a chest, scattered on top of it were a few gold Septims. He scooped them into his hand, it wasn't much, but he needed to survive. With the wine still in his hand, he swaggered around the room.

"Sorry old boy, we were too late..." he said as he inspected the contents of the wardrobe, "You were a rich bugger weren't you?"

He picked up an upturned chair and sat down on it, taking another sip of wine.

"I was a rich bugger once as well...I know what it's like to have it all taken away..." he looked at the corpse again, "Okay granted, I haven't lost my life, but I've come close to it."

Another swig of wine. The corpse regarded him with unseeing eyes.

"And now everyone expects me to be a hero...be a good man...I only came here for the loot, isn't that what epic quests and adventures are about? The loot?"

Another swig of wine. Marsus looked at the coins in the palm of his hand, and studied them. Money. It always paid to have money. He clenched his fist, and then threw them back over the chest from where they had come. Another swig of wi- _No!_

The bottle dropped from his hand and smashed on the floor.

"No more drinking to forget, no more money, no more stealing, NO MORE LIES!" he shouted as if the Nine themselves could hear him, "I want my brother back!"

With that he swept out of the room, back down the corridor, a changed man.

"I feared this would happen..."

Matius looked down at the signet ring in his palm. He closed his hand, and sighed.

"Let's get back to the Chapel; I can't stay around these corpses much longer."

The Chapel was cold, not just from the cold morning dawning, but from a chilling sensation of the events. Now they were over, the catastrophe of the situation sunk in: the hundreds dead, the very few survivors, and the looming threat that now hung over them all. This could happen again, anywhere.

The Orc had died of his wounds while the assault on the Castle was taking place. One Kvatch Guard had died in the battle, along with a Legion soldier in the courtyard. Not high casualties considering last nights attack, but now the most defensible town in Cyrodiil save the Imperial City itself was reduced to a pitiful defence, with only a handful of men to protect it.

The silence was broken by Savlian Matius unbuckling his pauldrons and vambraces, and taking off his Kvatch Guard's Cuirass. He then got up and walked over to Marsus, who was leaning on the Chapels wall, deep in thought. Matius dropped the bundle of armour into his arms.

"You have it..." he said, "You earned it. I'm tired of fighting now, I just want to rebuild my city..."

Marsus was left speechless as Matius put on a brown tunic to cover his chest, and walked out of the chapel door into the rain. After a few seconds, the Kvatch Guard followed him. Marsus stripped off his battered leather cuirass, and put the Kvatch one on. It fit surprisingly well. Renault, who had been sitting on a wooden bench, came up to Marsus with a smile.

"You did well today..." she said patting him on the arm, "You're a good man..."

"Thank you..." Marsus replied.

He could have ruined the atmosphere by remarking how rare a smile appeared on Renault's face, but chose not to spoil it.

"You did good too..." he said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to tell Brother Martin that he is very important..."

"You must be mistaken, I'm a priest, my father was a farmer..."

Martin looked away, seated on a bench he really did look more like a priest than the Emperors son. Marsus sighed and looked down.

"You realise that you are the whole reason this place was attacked right?" he said with a harsh undertone. "I mean why would the Daedra attack here, and not say, the Imperial City?"

"Me? This city was attacked because of _me_?"

Martin looked almost angry. Marsus realised the wave of guilt that now must be rushing over this poor man.

"Because you're the Emperor's son. You were safe here, but now with the Emperor and his son's dead...I think it's safe to say you're the only hope Tamriel has got at the moment..."

Martin looked into Marsus' eyes, as if he were studying the intrinsic parts of his soul.

"There is no lie in your eyes friend...what do you wish of me?"

"To come with me to Weynon Priory, talk with Jauffre about this, he has a plan."

"I see. Very well...let me gather some things. I am reluctant to leave this city behind, but if it means less people suffering then so be it."

Martin then got up and started gathering some things from around the Chapel. Marsus went back to Renault, who was leaning against the wall.

"You do have a way of convincing people..." she observed with a yawn.

"It's a skill..."

The sound of metallic boots clattering across the flagstones then confronted them, both Marsus and Renault turned to see Calvus and Aranwen standing there, looking as if they were about to travel.

"Going somewhere?" Marsus remarked.

"Yes. With you!" Calvus said with mock cheeriness.

He then turned, took a golden Septim out of his purse and held it up to his eye, then looked at Martin.

"He does look like his ol' dad doesn't he?"

Marsus sighed.

"So you know then?"

"Elf ears." Aranwen explained.

"Ah..."

"So we are coming with you. To make sure he's safe and that you don't do anything that may put him in peril." Calvus said with a raised eyebrow.

Renault was about to speak, but stopped when Calvus said:

"And I don't trust your friend either, I don't like people who know too much..."

"Can we talk somewhere private brother? I think we need to say some things that have remained unsaid." Marsus asked with good intentions.

"So long as you leave your blade behind."

Almost immediately Marsus unbuckled his sword belt and let his sword fall to the floor with an iron clang, Calvus did the same with his silver blade.

"Perhaps we can now have a moderately civilised conversation!"

Both brothers then went to the Chapel's undercroft. The two women were left standing there, regarding each other with wary looks.

"Bloody hell it's dark in here!" Marsus said as he tripped over a Scamp's corpse.

"Sorry I didn't have a chance to tidy up..." Calvus remarked dryly.

Both brothers then felt a strange sense of union. There was a brief moment where they felt like their teenage selves again, both bantering with their father's inherited humour.

"So..." Calvus started. "I guess I better start. After I sent you away to be locked up... I didn't feel good about it, but it was the right thing to do...I mean, you had become corrupted, enough to want to destroy me and the woman I love. I know it is no fault of your own, but that was the only cure. You had a stench of evil about you, you had changed and become something monstrous."

"Do I have that same stench now brother?"

Calvus paused in his speech. He began pacing up and down, finally stopping to inspect a carved statue atop a tomb.

"No. The actions you did five years ago do not mirror what you have done here... which is odd to say the least. You close an Oblivion Gate and help retake an overrun city. _That _is something I would have expected the Marsus I knew to do."

"Is that all you have to say?"

"For now, yes."

"Well then I shall say my piece. I spent five years in that hellhole of a prison. It wasn't exactly luxury. All through the trial I was blaming you for being cruel, though now hindsight serves me better. But there was something that kept me going..."

"A woman?"

"Sort of. I had a vision from Dibella."

Calvus turned to face Marsus in complete surprise.

"Really?"

"Yup. You should have seen her, by the Divines I've never seen anything so beautiful... but she told me that I was to get out in five years or the Empire will fall...or something like that, it was a long time ago...I started digging my way out, but caught and thrown in a different cell. It just so happened that the cell was the Emperor's secret escape route. He was assassinated, I ended up here. I never believed in fate Calvus, but something weird is going on here..."

Calvus approached Marsus. As he did, he felt the old comradeship of his youth stir up again. He hoped beyond all hope that Marsus had changed, but still had one more thing to discuss.

"Your Blades friend...she knows I was Divine Crusader."

"Was? I thought you still were?"

"I haven't seen that armour in five years, so how she knew is beyond me."

"They're the Blades...and to be honest, if _I _could put two and two together, so could a ring of the Emperor's spies."

Calvus sighed once more, and sat down on the cold stone floor. Marsus did likewise.

"Do you love her?"

"Sod off!"

"I'll take that as a yes!"

Marsus stared daggers at Calvus, who gave a sardonic grin in return. It however vanished for a more serious expression.

"I'm willing to give you a chance brother. You proved yourself here today, and further proof will sway me fully. I hope you do the right thing. I'll still be watching carefully."

"That is good enough Calvus..." Marsus said, even though he wanted full forgiveness, "I won't let you down."

"We'll see..."

The women were still regarding each other with suspicious looks when the brothers returned. Martin was standing in between them, slightly uncomfortable at being caught in the crossfire of the women's glares.

"Are Calvus and Aranwen accompanying us?" he asked Marsus.

"Yes, considering he's my brother, and wants to protect you as much as I do."

"Do you know?" Martin inquired to Calvus.

"Yes, and Aranwen does too. But don't worry; I'm sure the whole Empire will know soon enough!"

"Well we better get going..." Martin said, "I assume we're going on foot."

"We will take our horses and share them." Renault said authoritatively, "We will stay at an Inn on the Gold road, and then make out way north through country. It's quicker than the roads.

"Not much safer though..." Aranwen remarked.

With that, the five walked out into the rain and through the decimated city, all sharing the same feeling that despite the horrific events that had just happened, more battle, strife and death would come to pass...


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12- Attrition

The makeshift camp that Marsus and Renault had passed through on their way to city was still there, though a few more tents had been erected, and more survivors lingered there uselessly. They had received word that the Oblivion Gate had been closed and the city retaken, but they weren't exactly rejoicing. There was calm now the threat of death was over, but now there was also a feeling of despair, as they looked upon their broken city and dwelled on those many loved ones they had lost. But there was some joy here at least, when Calvus found something that was dear to him.

"Tiber!"

The horses that had been in the stables near the city gate had been released when Matius had fled out of the city, and most had made it out alive. Calvus' bay horse was among them. He stood proudly as the five approached him, and nuzzled Calvus in affection when he drew near.

"I'm glad you're still alive boy!" Calvus laughed as he mounted his steed.

He pulled Aranwen onto the saddle, as Renault and Marsus untied their mounts from a hitching post.

"We have three horses and five people." Calvus said, "And Tiber can only carry two. You'll have to sort out who will share one of the horses."

"I'll ride with his highness-" Renault started.

"Please, don't call me that..." Martin interrupted meekly.

"Okay...I'll ride with hi- Martin, I am his Blade after all."

"You say that as if I have a problem with that!" Marsus said flippantly as he mounted his horse.

But even as he said that, and busied his mind with the fiddling of straps and making himself comfortable on the saddle, a small corner of his heart whispered 'Damn...you're not riding with her...'.

He quickly dismissed that however, and concentrated on remembering how to ride again. When all the company were mounted, Renault led them to a nearby inn, where they were to rest and recuperate for the night. As Calvus and Aranwen were at the bar, Renault and Marsus sat down at a round table, with Martin in between them. Spread out over the table was a large map of Cyrodiil, over which Marsus and Renault were arguing.

"We'll have less chance of being ambushed if we take the roads!" Renault said in a harsh whisper, so as not to disrupt the calm atmosphere of the inn.

"Yes, but it will take us three days at least! We'll have to go through Skingrad, then around the Red Ring Road through to Chorrol. It would be easier and quicker to go cross country." Marsus countered.

"Full of Daedra and assassins?"

"Just like all the roads will be!"

"And wolves and ogres and minotaurs?"

"You're exaggerating."

"Calm down!" Calvus said as he sat down with three flagons of ale, "You're disturbing the lovely atmosphere!"

Marsus and Renault begrudgingly halted their argument, and each took a flagon from Calvus. Aranwen sat down with two more, and passed one to Martin.

"How would you resolve this argument then brother?" Marsus asked after a sip of his drink.

"I was a Crusader, not a judge..." Calvus remarked, "Personally I would ask Martin, he's the one we are protecting after all."

As one, they all looked at Martin. For a moment he looked like a frightened rabbit in the path of a stampeding stallion, but this left his face as he descended into thought.

"Well I can't make a decision yet..." he mused, "...until I have all the facts. How strong is banditry on the roads these days?"

"It's grown these past five years since the Divine Crusader left us..." Renault replied, "But it is strongest around The Great Forest."

"I see..." Martin thought aloud.

After a moments pause which was filled by the sipping of drinks and general chatter of the patrons of the inn, he looked as if he had come to a decision.

"The roads will take too long. We will travel across the plains," here Martin traced his finger along the map, across the parchment of County Kvatch "where we can see any enemy coming for miles. We will avoid the Colovian Highlands, and skirt along the edge of the Great Forest. That should more or less get us there in two days at the most."

"Your highness, if I may-" Renault began.

"I have spoken. I have considered your suggestion Captain, but I wish to go across country. And don't call me that."

"Yes...Martin." said Renault, who seemed somewhat deflated after receiving a scolding.

Marsus looked at Martin. The frightened rabbit that had been there had been replaced with the stony face of a ruler, a leader. But then the meekness came back into Martin's face.

"I am sorry Captain...I spoke harshly."

"No offence taken Martin..." Renault said with cold respect.

Everyone else looked away, save for Calvus.

"We'll make an Emperor of you yet!" he joked among the awkward silence, and took a swig of ale.

After their flagons were empty, they bid each other goodnight and headed to their rooms. Marsus unbuckled his Kvatch Cuirass, and laid it upon a chest of drawers. The rest of his armour he scattered haphazardly around his room, leaving only sack cloth pants on underneath. He leant his sword and scabbard against his bed, within close reach, just in case. He then lay down, and welcomed sleep into his arms.

The Imperial City's streets were usually noisy and full in the early hours of the evening in most districts, save one. The Elven Garden's district had a strict law of no loud noises after nine o'clock, and if there were any disturbances a fine would be swiftly administered by a Guard. It was in a room in Luther Broad's Boarding House that Baurus sat on his bed awake, with only the insects of the night outside for company. He ran a cloth up and down the length of his katana, polishing it after it had tasted the blood of assassins. He could clean his sword, but he could never purge his memories of what had happened. The moment he saw Glenroy die, the moment he saw the Emperor's Dead Body, the Prisoner, the Captain, the Blood. The Prisoner, the Captain, the Blood. The Prisoner the Captain the Blood. .

He threw his sword down to the floor. It clattered noisily, and for a moment Baurus panicked and thought he had broken the law, but no guard came running through the door to give him a fine. The Redguard breathed a sigh of relief, and picked up his sword. Well that snapped him out of it at least, but still he could not sleep, for one scene still replayed over and over in his head.

_The cold body was pale, devoid of the personality and mind that had governed the Empire. The smell of blood was sickly, but Baurus stood firm, waiting in the murk with only his torch for light and warmth. After what seemed like days passed, the sound of steel shod feet on flagstone startled him, and he swiftly drew his blade and called out: _

"_Identify yourself in the name of the Emperor!" _

"_Friend! Commander Adamus Phillia! We heard the Emperor fled this way."_

_A silver armoured elderly Imperial and several Palace Guards emerged into the torchlight, and were taken aback at the sight of the Emperor. _

"_Where is his Amulet?" the Commander asked. _

"_That's Blade business." Baurus retorted. _

_Despite the technical differences in rank, all members of the Legion held the Blades in some kind of authoritative light, so Baurus could get away with not calling the Commander 'sir' and being so blunt. He would normally have been more courteous, but his mood was dark. _

"_I see..." the Commander replied, "You take leave soldier, we'll deal with it from here." _

"_Thank you Commander..." Baurus said, knowing that the title of 'Commander' was all the courtesy the old Imperial would get._

Even now sat in his room he wished his manners were better. He got up and opened the window of his room, and looked out over the houses and gardens. A small light breeze kissed his skin as he leaned on the windowsill and sighed. Something flickered in his peripheral vision, he looked up and saw a pigeon flying towards him and land on the windowsill. It then shook its thin leg at Baurus, who saw there was a small message attached. He carefully removed it from the pigeon's leg, making it coo happily.

"They train them well..." Baurus muttered to no one in particular, and opened the message.

_**B**_

_**A reached us. Sent word to C. There is another DB. Investigate the K. **_

_**GJ**_

Baurus slipped the paper into his pocket, took some seed from a small pouch on his belt and scattered it on the windowsill. The pigeon pecked at it happily, then flew back into the night. Baurus reflected on the message. No one who didn't know the code would know who or what the message was about. Baurus did know the code; it was one of the first things learnt when initiated as a Blade. It was odd, Baurus thought, that he of all people should receive the message that had 'A' and 'K' in it, as rarely was the Amulet of Kings or Assassins discussed. Well he knew his orders now; he would start tomorrow, after trying to get some sleep.

The burning Dremora face was what woke Marsus up. He grabbed his sword, but then realised it was only a dream, and was about to put it back down when he heard a faint sound outside, like a breath or a sigh. There was no use trying to scrabble for his armour in the dark, so he slowly crept towards the door, the moon through the window his only light. The door yielded to the pressure of his free hand, and he looked out into the corridor. Standing in front of Martin's door was Renault on guard. Marsus approached her, but in the darkness she could not see him and put her hand on her sword hilt.

"Relax! It's me!" he said, holding his hands out defensively.

"Oh...hello..." Renault replied with a yawn.

"What are you still doing up?" Marsus asked, standing next to her.

"Guarding the Emperor. It's what the Blades are supposed to do..."

"Do you really need to? We are safe here...you don't need to make up for anything..." Marsus said, attempting reassurance.

Renault then fixed with a calm stare.

"Whether or not I have issues with the Emperors death is of no relevance Marsus. Whatever the effect that may have had on me, Martin still needs guarding."

"Fair enough..." Marsus said in surrender.

Renault then turned back to staring straight at the wall in front of her. Marsus looked at her for a second and then sighed.

"Mind if I join? I can't sleep..."

"I wouldn't mind..."

Marsus then sat down in the corridor, his sword across his knees. Renault continued to stand for a while, but then yielded to her tired legs, and sat down in front of the door.

"You were having nightmares as well?" she asked.

"Yes. It's odd you know. When I was in High Rock I did a lot of regretful things, and I slept like a baby. Then I do a righteous thing by slaying some Daedra, and I get sleep deprivation. That seems just!"

Renault emitted an amused sigh, and looked down the long corridor. There was an absence of any intruder.

"I would really like to know about your past Marsus..." she said, "After what your brother told me, I can't get the idea out of my head that you're a murderer."

"Do you really want to know?" Marsus asked.

There was a pause.

"I could just say 'Oh I don't want to know, you are a different man!' but... it will play on my mind. I want to know Marsus. Just what did you do?"

Marsus looked down, and ran his finger along the fuller of his blade.

"You heard I tried to take my brother's life. I suppose you could say that was justified, as I wanted revenge, I was sore, abandoned, torn. But I did other stuff as well. I summoned the Dark Brotherhood to try to assassinate Calvus. I killed one of my rivals in the nobility to gather the requirements for the ritual. I ordered men to kill other men with a flick of the hand. I drunk, I paid for women, and other pleasures of life. It's the murder that stains my hands the most."

"Everyone with a blade has killed..." Renault said.

"Not all in cold blood though." Marsus replied cynically, "Oh you couldn't say I was _evil_. I was power hungry, driven by vengeance and bitterness...something which faded after I found out the truth from Calvus. Then being thrown in prison did little to quell my anger, but that has also faded. Now...I want to leave that life behind...start again on the path I should have taken. Saving Kvatch and closing that Oblivion Gate almost felt like recompense for my sins...if only the Gods and Calvus would forgive me, then I would be content."

Renault was silent; she seemed to be taking all what Marsus had said in, mulling it over in her mind. Marsus feared for a moment that she would denounce him as a murderer, and order him to leave.

"Calvus will forgive you..." she finally said reassuringly, "and as for me...despite all you said to have done...they do not reflect what I have seen you do. You saved my life, you saved others...retook a city. Perhaps you were born to be good, you just strayed from the path."

She was looking into his eyes as she said these words, making Marsus feel...strange.

"Perhaps...we'll see..." he smiled.

Renault smiled back, but it quickly left her face, as the sound of a spell being cast and a cry were heard within Martin's room. Within seconds she was on her feet and had bashed the door in, blade in hand.

"My lord!" she cried with alarm.

Marsus ran into the room, seeing Martin stood there in his night clothes, a keen steel dagger in one hand. His other arm was outstretched, having just cast a spell. On the floor was a dead man in crimson robes, a stab wound in his chest and frost burns on his face. The window was open.

"We're leaving_ now!_" Renault growled, "I'll get the others, see to Martin Marsus!"

Marsus poked the corpse with the end of his blade and looked quizzically at Martin.

"What happened?"

"I was listening to your conversation outside when I heard the assassin creep in. Then instinct took over."

"You were listening?"

"Couldn't sleep."

"Well gather your things quickly and be wary, there may be more!"

Marsus stood guard while Martin dressed and packed his things. Within half an hour the party were back on the road, galloping through the darkness. The dark ominous shapes of crooked trees flashed past them, looming like trolls above them.

"Are we being pursued?" Renault shouted, the wind distorting her voice.

"Hard to tell!" Aranwen shouted back.

Marsus looked behind him. Although no pursuit had chased after them when they left the inn, it always seemed that there was some dark presence around the last corner, waiting for them to slow so it could pounce upon and devour them.

Dawn broke. They had covered a few miles on the road, but then fled across the plains of Kvatch. Nothing was pursuing them, save a strange dread that somewhere men lay in ambush waiting for them, or Daedra would pour out of a gate towards them, or mounted assassins would fall upon them with thirsty blades. A few miles from the border of the Great Forest, they made a camp, where they rested except for Marsus and Calvus, who kept watch over them and across the plains, searching for threats. Calvus was clad in his Dwemer armour, his sword bare and resting in the ground. Marsus wore his Kvatch Cuirass and scraps of leather armour, the wolf's head emblazoned on his chest felt like it was scouring the empty space in front of it, dangerous and protective.

"How am I doing?" Marsus asked among the small breeze that rustled the long grass.

"How are you doing with what?" Calvus queried.

"You know the whole...proving myself...thing..."

"Well you haven't murdered us in our sleep yet."

"Huh...I suppose that's progress."

"Indeed it is." Calvus surmised.

A sudden movement among the grasses made both brothers go to draw their blades, but it was only a deer bounding across the plains.

"Someone else tried to murder Martin though..." Marsus said, returning to the conversation.

"Who killed the assassin? You never actually said."

"He killed the intruder himself, with a dagger and frost spell...quite impressive really..."

"I reckon he'll be a good Emperor." Calvus said thoughtfully.

"We need to get him to Jauffre first..."

No more was said.

A few hours later they packed up camp, and rode a steady pace through the plains to the north. Another day and a half of riding and they were back on the road, weary from making such haste.

"So...what is going to happen when we get back?" Martin said, "I would much like to speak with Jauffre and learn everything about my past."

"You should get a chance to do that. As for what we do, we might want to take you to the Imperial City immediately..." Renault replied, "Although we shall see what Jauffre says."

As they rode up the hill however, and as they turned the corner and the Priory came into view, they saw their worst fears incarnate. The dread they had felt pursuing them had overtaken them and struck their sanctuary and safe house. Weynon Priory was under attack.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13- You win some, you lose some.

The all too familiar armoured assassins turned at the sight of the mounted party. There were four all together, three stood over a corpse near the door, and the other had been pursuing the Dunmer shepherd. They made to charge the mounted party but suddenly out of the shadows a brother leapt with a shining katana in hand. He gutted one of the assassins from behind, causing yet another distraction, an opportunity Calvus seized. He spurred Tiber forwards into the group of three assassins, his shortsword flashed and an assassin fell headless, another was knocked to the floor from Tiber's charge. From behind Calvus Aranwen swiftly shot two arrows, one into the forehead of the floored assassin, the other into the throat of the last one standing. The entire party dismounted and regrouped, weapons poised. The brother ran over to them.

"Thank the Divines your back, they attacked without warning...poor Prior Maborel."

"Where is Jauffre?" Marsus demanded.

"I...the chapel! He may need our aid!"

"I'll stay here with Martin!" Renault shouted as the others made for the Chapel doors.

The brother threw the doors open, revealing Jauffre and three assassins in a standoff.

"It's good that you've arrived." he said with utmost calm, "I'll take the one on the left!"

The assassins turned in surprise at the reinforcements, which fell upon them like a flood. The brother slashed at the chest of one, while Marsus and Calvus simultaneously ran another through. Jauffre kept to his word and engaged the assassin on the left, disarming him with surprising ease and decapitating him. Marsus opened his mouth to speak, but Jauffre interrupted him:

"There's no time, they are here for the amulet. To the house quickly!"

The four burst out of the chapel and ran towards the house, Renault and Martin followed closely behind. Jauffre flung the doors open and took the stairs two at a time; the brothers had a hard time keeping up with him. When Marsus reached the top of the stairs, he saw that a passageway to a hidden room was open in between what he had assumed were normal bookshelves. The room had been utterly plundered. A jewellery box lay broken on the floor; it looked as if it had been smashed with a mace.

"The Amulet! It's gone!" Jauffre exclaimed.

Marsus' gaze fell upon a window that had been forced open; the culprit had fled long ago.

"Seven of our attackers dead, but Prior Maborel fell and we lost the amulet..." the brother said grimly.

"There is no way we can claim this as a victory..." Renault sighed, "What now Grandmaster?"

Jauffre walked over to his desk in thought. Taking up a cloth he cleaned his sword of its bloodstains, and then sheathed it.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Martin." he said.

"Umm... likewise." Martin replied.

"Right now Martin, you are the only hope we have of getting through this crisis. Our priority is to get you to safety. We must regroup at Cloud Ruler Temple; it is time for the Blades to mobilise."

"Yessir!" Renault said.

"But before we do anything," Jauffre continued, looking at Calvus and Aranwen, "Who are these two people?"

"He's my brother." Marsus said.

"And the Divine Crusader..." Renault continued.

"And my husband!" Aranwen finished with a sincere tone.

Calvus looked at the floor and muttered something about how he was perfectly capable of speech.

"The Hero of the Battle of Garlas Malatar!" Jauffre said with a lean smile, "I am glad of the aid that you and your wife have provided thus far..."

The Grandmaster turned to the forced window and looked out towards the road that led northward through the trees and farmland.

"... and now I ask more of you. I cannot guarantee Martin's safety in the wild, and every sword is needed to defend him. I cannot command you to help me, but if you value the fate of Tamriel..."

His words trailed away. Renault looked at Marsus, her eyes told him to speak.

"I have started walking on this path, and I intend to follow it to its end." Marsus said, breaking the silence.

"Our home is burned." Calvus continued, "I now know what I must do, but Martin's safety is priority. We are not leaving."

Jauffre turned and smiled at them.

"I knew I could count on the Tullinus brothers. Now gather your things, we leave immediately!"

* * *

"NOW!" the Sergeant barked.

He kicked the remains of the wooden door down, revealing three scamps that had been feasting on a corpse within the ruined house. Ciel followed his sergeant into the ruin, along with the other Legion soldiers that were left. The scamps looked upon the Legion with terror as they stormed towards them. The Sergeant's silver sword flashed as it decapitated one scamp, whilst Ciel embedded his blade into another. The third cowered in the corner before the sergeant stabbed it in the gut, producing a foul stench.

For a moment, the only sound being the dying flames in the ashes of Kvatch. The Sergeant took his helm off, and threw it to the ground with a clatter. He them slumped down against a charred post, and wiped his brow with his hand.

"That's the last house. The residential areas are clear, and the boys in the castle and the sewers should be about done."

"But sir... what now?" Ciel asked.

There was a pause.

"We sit down. Then we scavenge for some food, maybe some wine. Then we ride like hell for Anvil."

The Sergeant sighed. The other soldiers sat down, following his first instruction.

"Boys, we're in a load of shit right now, and we've got a hell of a load of long days and nights ahead of us. The shit is only gonna get deeper. When the Empire knows what happened here..."

He left the sentence hanging in the air. Silence hung about them for a minute, each of the men contemplating their future.

"Well, we aren't gonna conquer Oblivion with empty stomachs." The Sergeant finally said, rising, "Let's find some food."

* * *

The ride north had been thankfully uneventful. With the addition of Jauffre and the Priory horses the party was too large to cross country swiftly, so they stuck to the roads. They had travelled for two days when, as the Jerall Mountains towered in the distance, Calvus rode up beside Marsus and initiated conversation:

"Marsus, something has been bothering me for a while."

Marsus wondered frantically for a moment if Calvus wanted to know something about his dark past, or was preparing an assault of criticism.

"It's about something Jauffre said..." Calvus continued.

_Oh thank the Divines, _Marsus thought.

"What?" he inquired.

"He called us 'The Tullinus Brothers'."

"Your point being?"

"Well... he makes it sound like we're famous."

"You're the Divine Crusader and I'm... well..."

"The Divine Crusader is famous, not Calvus Tullinus... he knows something."

Marsus shrugged in response.

"We'll avoid Bruma," Jauffre then announced to the party, "It is best that no-one know we are here..."

This they did, encountering neither friend nor foe on the road as it climbed up past the stony walls and thatched roofs of Bruma, and into a seemingly disused mountain path. Here the road zigzagged for some time, until the sight of Cloud Ruler Temple almost jumped out at the party from behind a sheet of icy rock.

"A hidden fortress indeed..." Marsus mumbled.

Jauffre rode up to the great iron gates of the fortress and shouted to the battlements above: "Open! Open in the name of Martin Septim, Uriel Septim's heir and the rightful Dragonborn Emperor!"

There was a great squeal of metal chains covered in ice, and slowly the gates rumbled open, revealing a solitary figure, dressed in identical armour to Renault's.

"Well met Captain Steffan!" Jauffre shouted above the rumble of the gates.

"Well met Grandmaster!" the Captain replied, "Have you brought him? Is he here?"

"Yes, I've brought him Captain."

"I'll assemble the men!"

Captain Steffan then sprinted up the grand staircase behind him. Jauffre dismounted his horse and led it up the stairs; the rest of the party did likewise. As Marsus walked up the stairs with his steed in tow, he realised that it was like no other fortress in Cyrodiil. What he has assumed were walls were in fact the base of the entire fortress built upon the mountain peak, the courtyard above being almost level with the fortifications above the gate. No trebuchet or catapult would be able to breach it, for it was a structure of slid stone throughout. Halfway up the staircase there was a large gateway, this proved to be a stables. It was there they left their horses with the stable hands and climbed the rest of the way until they emerged into the main courtyard.

Their arrival had evidently halted the daily goings of the Temple's inhabitants. Fifty fully armoured Blades stood on either side of the cobbled path leading to the keep, their curved swords forming a tunnel of steel. On the sparring ground to the right of the path stood a batch of recruits wearing padded leather armour and holding blunt swords, arranged somewhat less ceremoniously than the Blades in the centre of the courtyard. To the left of the path, huddled near the keep, were a group of men and women in plain clothing, who looked as if they had just woken up. Marsus could even see some sheltering their eyes from the bright sun. All was silent. Jauffre motioned to Martin, and both men walked through the tunnel of steel, up to steps towards the keep. As they turned to face the assembled men, Marsus heard Captain Steffan saying apologetically to Martin.

"I'm so sorry you're highness. If we had known you were coming, we would have been better prepared."

"It's quite alright Captain-" Martin said.

As one, the Blades lining the path turned to face Martin, and knelt with the tip of their swords pointing towards the ground.

"-you appear to be prepared enough."

Marsus then saw Jauffre whisper something to Martin, to which Martin straightened his back and cleared his throat.

"Jauffre. All of you. I know you all expect me to be Emperor. I'll do my best. But this is all new to me. I'm not used to giving speeches. But I wanted you to know that I appreciate your welcome here. I hope I prove myself worthy of your loyalty in the coming days. That's it. Thank you."

To this the Blades arose, held their swords in the air and chanted: "Hail, Dragon Born! Hail, Martin Septim! Hail!"

As the final of syllable of 'hail' echoed in the peaks around them, Jauffre waved his hand, indicating the assembled Blades to disperse. They marched off in various directions, except for five men who walked up to Martin, spoke a few words and ushered him inside the keep. Marsus turned around. Calvus was leaning casually against a wall, Aranwen's head on his shoulder. Renault had disappeared.

"They like ceremony these Blades." Calvus observed.

"They also don't seem to have any concept of providing for guests..." Aranwen grumbled.

"I'll see if I can find us some warm beds..." Marsus said.

He turned round, and found himself in the face of a Khajiit dressed in the metallic garb of the Blades. The Khajiit had golden fur, but patches of white had started to appear under his eyes and around his mouth. He was baring his teeth at Marsus, but Marsus had dealt with enough of the people of Elsweyr to know that this wasn't a threat. The problem was he didn't know enough to place what the expression was.

"Can I help you?" Marsus asked very slowly and carefully.

The Khajiit sniffed.

"Can I-"

"Tullinus." The Khajiit interrupted.

"I don't under-"

"You're Tullinus all over. You look and smell like him."

"Did Jauffre tell you-"

"I haven't had a chance to speak to the Grandmaster since he arrived. Haven't seen him for almost ten years and he doesn't even say hello. Hmph. More important things on his mind I suppose. You will come with me, your brother and the elf too."

It was not a question, but a statement. Marsus turned back towards Calvus, who shrugged in return. By the time Marsus had turned back round, the Khajiit was already stalking his way towards the keep, his long tail waving behind him. The brothers and Aranwen had to jog to catch up. As they approached the keep, Marsus looked up at the building, crafted of stone and carved wood, with dark grey slate tiles on the roof.

"I've never seen such architechture..." Calvus said.

"Akaviri." Marsus stated, "But I never thought I would see such a thing in Cyrodiil."

"Yes, Akaviri." The Khajiit said, "That is what we once were, but no more. No longer dragon slayers. No longer snake-men. Guards and spies are what we are now."

The Khajiit pushed open the doors to the great hall. The first thing that struck Marsus was the heat. Having been in the north of Cyrodill for a few days, he had gotten used to the cold. The great fire in the large hearth at the opposite end of the hall reminded him what it was to be warm. The room was adorned with rich tapestries of red, gold and purple, each depicting some scene from legend. Display cases and tables bordered the edges of the hall, encasing six great feasting benches, at which some off duty Blades were taking their meals. But the most striking thing about the hall was the great collection of the Blade's curved swords that hung from the large beams of the hall.

"Blimey..." Calvus remarked.

"When a Blade dies, their sword goes up on the wall in their memory." The Khajiit explained, "No ceremony for the body, for it is the sword that protects the Emperor. The body could be dumped in a river for all we care."

A look of distaste crept up on Aranwen's face.

"But so many Blades have died; we cannot fit them all up on the wall. We would need more walls and a room only needs four." The Khajiit continued, "So when a new Blade dies, we take the sword of the oldest Blade down, and carve its owner's name upon the hilt, then give it to a new member. Look!"

He drew his sword in a flash, thrusting its hilt under Marsus' nose. Two names were inscribed on the hilt: 'Maximus Allinus' and 'J'riska'.

"Its second owner was the first Khajiit Blade in Cyrodiil's history. This one is Ri'Bassa, the second Khajiit Blade in Cyrodill's history. The circle ever turns. And now this one see's that circle turning again."

The Khajiit walked to adjacent wall, and pointed at a sword on the wall. Calvus and Marsus looked up at it. On the wooden plaque nailed underneath was carved the name 'Gauis Tullinus'.

The brothers looked at each other, and then back up at the plaque.

"Father..." Marsus whispered.

"COME ON YOU SLACKERS I WANT TO GET BACK TO CHORROL BEFORE DAWN!"

Modryn Oreyn had been marching the new Fighter's Guild recruits around the perimeter of Chorrol all morning, then to the abandoned fort opposite the city's main gates for what he called 'scenic sparring'. However, everyone else involved in the process called it 'running from Mad Modryn'. He would set the recruits loose in the ruined fort with blunted weapons. He would then hide somewhere in the ruin with a blunted mace and charge out at them. If they managed to block his surprise attack, they got to leave the fort. If they didn't, he would make them do fifty sit ups in full combat gear. Modryn thought it improved their nerves and defensive instinct. He was probably the only one.

It was after a session this 'scenic sparring' that Modryn was leading his battered, beaten and exhausted recruits back to Chorrol, lecturing them as they went.

"...Godfrey, the way you deflected my mace with your dagger was impressive, but a fluke. Rely on your feet next time if you don't want to die. Kathryn, you blocked well with your shield, just raise it a bit higher. And as for you Septimus, try and hold your sword from the hilt, not the blade, and- where are you going?"

The recruits had broken into a sprint and ran far ahead of him.

"That's the spirit! But there's no order, no organisation, no..."

He became slowly aware of a low screeching sound behind him, which grew to a loud roaring. He turned, and saw a great portal of fiery rock rise from the earth, a tempest-like inferno contained within. The sky slowly began to turn red. Modryn dropped his blunted mace to the floor and ran as fast as he could to the city, crying:

"MAN THE WALLS! TO ARMS! OBLIVION IS HERE!"


End file.
